Serendipity
by HeartsandEyesDelight
Summary: Sometimes the road to love isn't easy. Sometimes, it takes a few times around, and a few lucky coincidences, to get it right. Do soul mates always end up together in the end? GSR, as always. AU. OOC. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, etc.

A/N: :) Let me know what you think. This idea popped into my head, and it's been a little while since I started something new so... yeah. I'm sorry, I do that... a lot. :)

Also, can anyone guess which one Sara is? She's in this first chapter, but not named yet, as Grissom's being all introverted.

* * *

I don't know, exactly, how I ended up in a bar in San Francisco, tipsy off rum and coke, beside a married man who seemed to be seriously considering breaking his vows, eyeing any number of long-legged brunettes.

…No, okay, I know. But it's just not… in character, for me.

For one thing, I generally prefer scotch. For another, I live in Vegas. I don't have any respect for men who cheat, and I just don't do the bar scene. I hardly did it when I was in college, much less now, as a forty-one year old man. …God, I feel old.

I'll start with the simplest of explanations first—I'm in San Francisco to give a series of lectures at this year's Forensic Academy Conference. When you're one of about fifteen forensic entomologists in the country, it's not so much an honor as a duty to speak at these, every few years, especially with the advances we've made. …Well, no, let's be fair—the insects haven't changed, the juries have. They're far more willing to trust an expert witness who says the bugs told him when the victim died than they used to be, so there's a growing demand among criminalists for a basic understanding of timeline regression.

Paul Nygar went to school with me. We were both getting our Masters degrees in Biology at UCLA and working in the L.A. Coroner's Office. He's a few years older than I am, and a little less bright, but not so much that we can't relate. If I'm being truthful, I can say without arrogance that it's rarer to meet someone who is as smart or smarter than I am than it is to meet someone who is not. He's married to Julie, a girl he met while we were in school, and he's got two beautiful teenagers—Kami and Aaron.

Even in school, Paul was a heavy drinker, so I was unsurprised to hear that he was willing to go out for drinks, even though it was a Thursday night. Julie expected it, by now, and I hadn't seen the man in years. I didn't necessarily want to go for drinks, at first—I'd gone over and had a lovely dinner with his family, disgusting Julie and intriguing both Kami and Aaron with my tales of bugs and bodies, death and decomposition. Aaron was like his father—smart, but would probably go to school on a basketball scholarship and take five to pick a major and pursue it. Kami though, she was smart. She listened to my stories as more than something gross and freakish—she picked things out… she was curious about what evidence meant and how we came to our conclusions.

I tried to talk Paul into bringing her to the conference to watch some of the lectures, despite not necessarily being invited—no one would notice if they slipped in here and there, and even if they did notice, Paul could say they were waiting for me. Guests of mine. I wouldn't enjoy using it, but out of those fifteen forensic entomologists, I'm one of the better known and more respected. I've made a name for myself, over the years… guests of mine wouldn't be sent away.

Regardless of the girl's obvious aptitude, I didn't enjoy the dinner nearly as much as I ought to've. I think it was me hitting a mid-life crisis. Yes, Paul was a friend… but he'd also always been the person I wasn't. We were studying the same thing, but I got better grades. He was older, but I was made a coroner before him. He became a coroner and I left it to pursue forensics, and even ran off to the rainforest in between semesters, and still managed to be further along in my career than he in his.

It's a terrible thing to say, but Paul's always been the friend who made me feel like, despite my shortcomings, I was doing okay. …Being in his home, I no longer felt that way. I felt… inadequate. I felt like I'd turned forty the previous year with nothing to my name but a job I didn't consider a career. …Don't get me wrong, I'm a professional. …But I'm not motivated by the opportunity for advancement, and I don't play politics. I'm a CSI because I want to give justice to victims and save lives, when it's possible.

I don't regret this—I dislike the idea of public service of my kind being about a advancement… it skews everything, the science included… the justice included.

But then I was left wondering, absent a beautiful wife and brilliant daughter and son who looked just like me… What had I done, in my life? What did I have, to cling to… to call my own… to take pride in? So it was easy to suggest we go out for a drink, just to get out of the damned house that was making me relive every failed relationship and every opportunity I'd once had to change the path that had taken me up to this moment.

That explains why I'm in San Francisco, and why I'm in a bar, and why I'm sitting beside a married man. I'm drinking rum and coke for old time's sake, I guess. It's not a favorite, anymore, but it had been my drink of choice back when I'd accompanied Paul on his nightly frolics into dens of iniquity such as we found ourselves now. I'd never been a huge fan of beer, and I made enough money playing poker in the back of the bar to fund my drinks for the night… and if Paul was foolish enough to play me in pool, I would make considerably more.

The final two questions, I suppose, are… Why is the married man pushing the line between fidelity and cheating scumbag, and why am I eyeing women half my age instead of preventing my rather intoxicated friend from making a life-altering mistake? …The two of these, I suppose, are connected, I muse, drinking deeper and ignoring the blonde whose hand is slowly inching up Paul's thigh. It had started on his knee, and had moved a good several inches in the last twenty minutes. I groaned, feeling guilty and glancing at Paul.

"Hey—do you need me to call you a cab?"

He gave me a look of confusion, which only deepened when I glanced between him and the woman's hand, and then understanding dawned… but the haze remained in his eyes. "I'm… married." He told his blonde, which did not a lot of good, because she was halfway to his crotch… if she hadn't seen his wedding ring yet, she didn't care whether he wore one anyway.

I gestured to the waitress who'd been hitting on me all night—perhaps the reason I had continued by all-too-male perusal of the occupants of the bar—and she nodded that she'd bring me another, before glancing at Paul again, who was losing the battle. Guilt struck again—I wouldn't have let it go this far if I hadn't been feeling so petulant—a small part of me wanted him to screw it all up, because then I wasn't the friend who was a failure anymore. But if I did that, I certainly couldn't describe myself as any kind of friend.

I leaned across the table, catching the blonde's attention. "He's got a daughter just a few years younger than you. There's more than enough single men here to entice you… Find one of them."

She rolled her eyes, her fingertips brushing dangerously high—Paul's eyes were drifting closed, and I shook my head. Whatever I had or hadn't wanted, it would still be his own damn fault for allowing this to get so far. I reached over and pulled her hand away not a moment too soon. "I lied. He's not married—he's my lover who can't decide if he's in the closet or not, so he flirts with women to make himself feel better, and I allow it because the make up sex is... fabulous. That ring is his commitment to _me_, but… I mean, if you want my sloppy seconds, I'll still take him back when you're done with him…"

Whether she believed me or not, she clearly wasn't willing to risk sleeping with a man who'd been with another man. She was up and gone before Paul was even aware of what I'd said, and then he was laughing and denying it, his eyes still closed, thinking she'd start touching him again if he just said the right thing. I rolled my eyes and leaned back, away from him. My drink came to rest in front of me a moment later, and I reached for my wallet, pulling out the appropriate bills and passing them to her. "Thank you."

She offered a flirtatious smile. "Anything for you, honey. …Is your friend okay?"

I glanced at him, eyes still closed, muttering about how he was as straight as they came. I chuckled. "Actually, do you think someone could call him a cab…? He's hit his limit."

She laughed, her hand coming to rest on the back of my chair, fingertips brushing my shoulder as she did so, none of this unintentional—she was working for tips. "There should be three or four empty ones waiting outside already." She turned to walk away, an exaggerated but entirely appealing sway in her hips, but stopped and turned back around. "…You're should stay though. Hang around."

I wanted to roll my eyes at her—logically, I knew the game. Turn on the much older man who has been watching you since the first round of drinks, remembering what it felt like to grab as ass that firm or run your palms over legs that long and smooth, and walk away a very well-paid waitress. Knowing the game didn't dampen its effectiveness, however. From the crown of her head, dark locks cascading into a petite frame with enough curves in her t-shirt and short, black jean shorts to make an old man like me lose his mind, to the tips of her feet at the bottom of those endless legs, the waitress had me watching.

Maybe it was just how invigorating it was to flirt with someone so young and vibrant. …It made me feel younger, myself. Because it wasn't that the waitress was so much more beautiful than any other girl in the room. It was that she made me feel like a younger man. And those feelings don't just disappear—I knew I wasn't going to give the waitress a hundred just because she'd casually touched me, just like I knew I wasn't going to do more than flirt and watch her walk away—but they manifest themselves in other ways.

…Which, I suppose, is how I found myself eyeing every dark-haired girl in the place.

The first floor of the bar, which I could see down to from where I was sitting, was a dance floor, a large bar, and rows and rows of pool tables. The second floor wrapped around the outer edges of the massive room, stopping short of the dance floor so that second floor patrons could look over and observe the action. Up here, we were seated by the bar—but there were tables all the way around. Near us was a group of people who clearly worked together—they all had square name tags around their necks or pinned to their bodies, somewhere, and wore similar clothing… dressy, but functional. There was a brunette in their midst in a skirt that should be down to her knees, but she was leaned back in her chair, laughing a laugh that brightened the room, and the skirt had slid up, revealing some of her thighs.

Off to my right somewhere was a large group of girls, probably here for a bachelorette party, because the girl in the center was wearing a veil that looked like it had condoms stuck to it. She and several of her friends were brunettes, and quite beautiful, though they were far enough away for details to be obscure. Across the dance floor were a group of men, younger than me, watching a game I couldn't see. The waitress serving them was clad in the same impossibly short black shorts, her long, dark hair up in a sleek ponytail that brushed across the delicate nape of her neck when she bent down to hear them better. Near there was a young group of kids… college age, probably, with three guys and two girls. One was a redhead, the other—you guess it, dark hair. It was in a messy ponytail at the back of her hair, delicate wisps falling over her flushed skin, teasing her cheek bones and her ears and her shoulders. And still finally, to my left, was a girl with brown curls who was leaning with a girlfriend on the railing, overlooking the dance floor, drink in hand.

Like I said—I don't know what caused me to behave so out of character, and a mid-life crisis alone could not be blamed, no matter how wonderful Paul's family life seemed… there was just an electricity in the air around me, like I just knew something was going to happen, and I wanted it… I could taste it on the tip of my tongue, like when the air tastes like rain before a storm.

And even if it didn't make sense… even if there was no logical reason for me to be where I was, much less wanting this unexpected _thing_ that seemed to be edging closer and closer…. I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything I had wanted in as long as I could remember…. So I waited for it, sipping my non-traditional drink and ignoring my friend, who had finally realized his blonde had left him, and was now discussing the final points of an autopsy with the table in front of him. _Something_ was about to happen, and I was going to be here--not putting my friend in a cab--when it did.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So no one who guessed figured out which one Sara was. :) Surprise! ...Did anyone who didn't write it figure it out?

Anyway, thanks, as always, for all the reviews! And I hope you enjoy! I updated as quickly as I could!

CSIfan3408--yeah, I think I might have been channeling a Grissom whose a little more Kiss the Sky than most of my Grissoms. :) Did you like the movie?

* * *

I was drunk.

I mean… not so much that I was going to throw up, or end up going home with some guy I didn't know. I think I would pass out before I got that drunk. …But I was definitely feeling good.

And really, who can fault me? Despite being able to drink most of my girlfriends under the table, I'm not a big drinker, because I'm not really all that social. I have a few close friends. The only reason I'm sitting in a big group now is because I had to take all the involved parties—my fiancé's sisters and cousins, and the girls at work who I call friends but rarely see except while at work or grabbing a bite just after. So I think, if there's one time I can get drunk, it's at my own bachelorette party.

And considering all Rachel was planning for me tonight, I figured it was better to be a little unaware.

Thankfully, she waited until Jace's sisters and cousins abandoned us to go dancing—it wasn't that they didn't like me… we just weren't the same kind of people. They didn't know how to relate to me. And I didn't think they'd like watching me go through all the games Rachel had planned, even if they already knew what it involved. Clearly, she'd done so on purpose—not five minutes after they'd dispersed, she was dragging me and the assorted other girls who hadn't left—Anne and Kim from work, and then Michelle and Kyleigh who were my other bridesmaids—to start selling things.

I was clad in jeans and a white t-shirt to which she had stuck about fifty lifesavers, with 'Suck for a Buck' written in large letters on the front and back. I was wearing a veil to which she'd glued condoms (still wrapped, thank god), which she said we'd be selling for a dollar as well—but for five, we'd throw in a kiss. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that arguing wouldn't stop her—I'd just turn my cheek to the unsuspecting buyers and if they had remorse over the purchase, they could yell at her.

She dragged me through the bar, stopped at every table with a male to announce that I was getting married in just over a week and made me spin in a circle, displaying my wares. At first I felt myself blushing profusely at all the attention, and positively horrified at having the lifesavers sucked off—not only because strange men were sucking on my shirt, but because of all the saliva involved in such a thing.

So when each new table bought me a drink, I was more than happy to oblige—it got my mind off the wet spots on my torso.

And half-way around the upstairs, I wasn't blushing so much. I felt myself take on that overconfident stride that only comes with intoxication, spinning in a circle of my own accord and asking in a throaty voice if anyone wanted to suck. …My friends were falling all over themselves laughing at me, and the constant clicking sound that seemed to filter through the lights and the haze and my inexplicable amusement let me know I would be seeing all of this first-hand in the morning. They were taking pictures.

But regardless of my intoxication, and the sheer number of men who had sucked on me so far and tried far too hard to get more than a cheek out of the deal, it felt harmless. I wasn't worried, or stressed, or tense at all. I was happy… Jace and I were getting married in just over a week, I was with my friends, and despite how embarrassed I was sure to be in the morning, right now I felt fan-tas-tic.

It was a table with two older men that gave me pause—one of them was beyond gone… drunker than me and then some. But the other was… probably just starting to feel it. As our giggling mass moved closer and closer, winding through the tables, I felt his eyes on me, unyielding and hot, and though it made me uncomfortable, I also had to admit that it was strangely attractive. If I were the type of girl to meet a guy at a bar and take him home… if I wasn't engaged… I might have jumped him the moment I saw him.

I like older men—it's as plain as that. I find a touch of gray hair at the temples to be just about the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Maybe it's just because guys my age still act like they did as freshmen in college… Jace himself is thirty-three. …Jace. I turned deliberately from the gaze of my dark-eyed stranger, who had me positively flushed with a single glance.

The people here were even more interested than the others had been—we sold just about all of the condoms on my veil, and my shirt was entirely too wet again, once we slipped away from them. I tried to keep moving—to leave the solitary man and his very drunk friend alone—but Rachel pulled me over, beaming, not understanding my urgency to not approach him.

"Hi. My name's Rachel and this is Sara—she's getting married in a week and, _poor thing_, she doesn't have enough money to buy lingerie for her honeymoon. Would you like to buy something to help her out?" She gave him a cheeky grin and a wink, and his eyes slid over my body again, causing me to shudder as if he'd actually touched me.

"What are you selling?" His voice deeper than I expected, and gravelly.

She nudged me, and the fire seeped through my veins. I took a breath, forcing confidence I didn't feel into my voice and stance, bending and leaning closer to him as I spoke, low and gravelly too. "You can suck for a buck or buy a condom… but only if you're going to use it. I don't believe in being wasteful. I'm an environmentalist." God, I was talking a lot. Had I done that at the other tables? Maybe I was further gone than I thought…

He chuckled, and the sound was deep and dark, sending goose bumps down my arms. "I saw you giving away kisses a few tables over… far more environmental—no litter."

I felt my face flush, and a bit of the stupor slip away. "I… I'm all out of those."

Rachel laughed. "Oh, no you don't, Sara. If he's got a five, you've gotta pucker up!"

He pulled out his wallet, glancing inside. "For a twenty, can I convince you ladies to sit and have a drink with me?"

I shook my head, but everyone else was sitting down and the money was changing hands. Rachel tugged me into the chair between her and the mystery man, who I now knew had eyes that were not as dark as I had imagined—they were blue, but still dark enough to make me frightful of what I'd see if I allowed myself to look into them too deeply. A waitress approached, taking drink orders, and when I requested a water, my table erupted in laughter, telling her I needed a Long Island Tea with my water.

The worst part of it was that I wasn't all that drunk—certainly not drunk enough to be out of control… and if I was, at least I would have an excuse for wanting to stay at this table, talking to this man with the deep voice and the dark eyes. …But I knew better. Wanting such a thing at all was dangerous—I was getting married.

I glanced at the man's companion, who was looking around somewhat blearily, as if he'd been asleep against the table and had just now woken and realized he was surrounded by giggling women. I giggled at that, and the man beside me offered a smile. "So—you're getting married, what, a week from Saturday?"

I sighed softly. That wasn't so threatening a question. "I am…"

His grin came back. "…You wearing white?"

I blushed, and he chuckled, letting his arm fall onto the back of my chair, not quite in contact with my shoulders, but close enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. I shivered, realizing belatedly that I hadn't answered him. I cleared my throat. "…_Yes_, I'm wearing white."

He smiled, licking his lips. "Not very traditional then?"

His eyes flashed with the implication, and Rachel snorted beside me, trying to cover her laughter. The waitress arrived, placing a glass of water along with my drink in front of me and moving around the table, distributing drinks. I reached for the water, and Rachel pulled it out of reach, nudging the Long Island Tea closer instead. I let my hand fall to my lap ineffectually, glancing nervously back at the man.

"I, uh… I've never seen you here, before." I said, because I felt the need to fill the silence that had come between us with the arrival of the drinks.

He smiled, lifting his refilled drink to his lips and let his hand fall away from my seat back, allowing me to breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm from out of town—Las Vegas."

I smiled, mostly because I was relieved that he felt… safer now. "Do you have a name, or should I just call you _Vegas_?"

He laughed. "No, I'm—"

Rachel interrupted then, tugging my shoulders and moving her head forward to enter herself into the conversation. "Nope. No names—'Vegas' sounds perfect."

At my perplexed look, she giggled. "You're not here to make friends—you're here to get trashed and to get paid to let men suck on your chest for the last time…"

I raised an eyebrow as the man laughed. "Don't you mean for the first time?" I said, reminding her that I had never been paid to let men suck on my chest in any capacity.

"And last." She said emphatically, looking at… Vegas. "So, you gonna pay for a suck, or are we moving on?"

He sighed, pulling out a five and a one and offering them to her where she tucked them into the wad she had collected. She smirked, tugging a condom from the veil that was now almost empty and passing it to him. I felt my face getting warm for what felt like the hundredth time tonight as he lifted his eyes from tucking the condom into his wallet and caught my eyes. There was a heat swooping in my stomach and a tingling sliding down my arms and a fluttery kind of nervousness as I stood and stepped closer to him.

There was a brief pause—a moment before he made his move. And I found myself imagining the event in anticipation, unable to wait for it to happen to experience it. There weren't all that many lifesavers left—a green one on the top of my right breast that seemed like it had avoided the slobber from previous suckers, a red one near the underside of my left breast that didn't look like it had been so lucky, and another green one near the hem, over my stomach. The rest were on my back. I even let my eyes flutter closed, feeling in my mind the press of his delicate lips over the green, slobber-free circle inches below my chin. It would be soft, I was certain, but he would press more to get his mouth around the disc, and when I swayed backwards from the pressure, his hands would catch my hips and hold me firmly, sucking slowly to prolong the moment spent removing the candy.

…Despite his previous flirting and my fantasizing, he did not choose one of the lifesavers that was over my breasts, but rather picked up the hem of my shirt and pulled it away from my body, sucking the lifesaver from my stomach without ever pressing his lips to my body. The sweetness of it… the reluctance, the hesitation… it left me reeling, feeling dizzy and weak in the knees and positively overwhelmed with my desire for the lips he was now denying me, to my overwhelming disappointment.

My eyes fluttered open as he took my hand, kissed it gently, and then stood, slipping past me and rousing his friend. He was gone before I knew it, and though I knew I ought to be relieved… I simply felt like I was missing something I'd never realized I was missing, before now. …But now that I knew, how exactly could I continue without it?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Short, but I wanted to give you an update before I headed off to class. Hope you enjoy!

Thanks for all the reviews! To answer some questions from my reviewers--I thought of it because I was thinking about those games and how mortified I would me if my MOH tries anything like that for my bachelorette party, when it comes around, and then (as most things) I related it to GSR, and it appeared. :) Also, there will be angst in this one, of course... but when do I not have them ride off into the sunset? (With the notable exception of Shades of Porphyria, in which I warned people they probably didn't want to read it...)

:) Thanks again! Let me know what you think!

* * *

She was different. I knew it the moment I saw her closer, her features clear and unobstructed by distance and the cloud of my own self-deprecating contemplations. Her curls were delicate, and long, brushing past her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, and were the only thing, from a distance, that hinted at the amount of alcohol she must have consumed. Her steps were steady… graceful. She was tall and thin, her curves subtle and supple and practically mouth-watering. Her lips curved gently when she laughed and spoke, revealing a gap-toothed smile that for some completely unfathomable reason had me tensed, already at half-mast.

But she was getting married.

Despite the provocative shirt and the games her friends were making her play and her obvious reaction to my advances… she was getting married. She had a veil over her curls that, despite being stuck with condoms, made her look positively glowing. She would be a beautiful bride, and he was the luckiest bastard in the world. …And she was an honest woman. She sensed the electricity between us… knew, without a doubt, just as I did, that something could happen between us. If she let her friends pour as many drinks down her throat as they intended and I kept up my flirtations… something would have happened.

She knew, and she tried to avoid it. She didn't relax until I pulled my arm from the back of her chair.

Which meant that, despite whatever drew me to her and her to me, she loved the man she was marrying in just over a week's time, and she would be a faithful wife.

Knowing this about her… and knowing what was between us… I could see no good coming of sleeping with her, tonight, or even kissing her… laying my lips to her breasts and letting her 'suck for a buck' game serve as a means to be closer than I had any right to be… because she would feel guilty, and she would go back to him, and they would start their marriage filled with doubt, when she had tried to avoid me in the first place.

It wasn't fair to her, so I took the lifesaver that was safest, not even allowing my lips to press against her body through the shirt, and roused Paul with no little amount of difficulty, retreating to a cab that would take him home and me to my hotel where I could get hardly any sleep and wake up with a pounding headache to go teach timeline regression. It was not a happy ending, and it was not the something that I had been certain was going to happen… but instead of wallowing in disappointment, I found myself lying awake in the hotel bed, wondering if it would have been possible for her to be next to me.

She had been doing everything in her power to avoid us getting swept up in one another… what would it have taken, to get her to forget about her husband-to-be and let me take her back here for the night? What would she have felt like… tasted like… sounded like, when she reached her peak and went over?

I did wake up with a headache, and popped three Tylenol before jumping in the shower, thinking that the best thing to do now was to put it behind me. I had lectures to give all day, and daydreaming about the girl from the night before who was not only engaged but far too young for me would not make it go any faster or any easier. I put her from my mind with effort, dressing in a white and blue pin-striped button down and a black pair of pants. I really just wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt, but I figured the Forensic Academy might not appreciate that so much.

I ate peanut butter toast and an apple over a paper down in the tiny breakfast room, and drove my rental to the Berkeley Campus, where the Conference was being held, trying to shake the tightness from my chest and focus on the science I was about to be teaching… I used to get so excited to teach. …I used to be contented with the job and nothing else.

Things had changed, the night before, and it wasn't just a crisis or a reaction to the alcohol and the exposure to beautiful women. The woman from the night before… Sara… she was different. She exuded something that I couldn't name, but I wanted to bask in it forever. I didn't believe in love at first sight, and I didn't believe in soul mates… but I believed that Sara had been something else. …I believed that if I'd met her under different circumstances, we would have been together.

I set up my slides and my overhead, I went over the notes that I was unlikely to use, and I double-checked my specimen jars, and I sat down, not looking up when people starting coming into the room, staring blankly at the papers in front of me, pretending to be reading so that I did not have to meet the eyes of any of my colleagues who were now piling into seats. I wanted to go back to the night before and make different choices… entice her to spend some time with me… get to know her, and let whatever was between us grow.

Because it was already overwhelming, just as it was… given some time, it would be unavoidable. I had seen the way she looked at me—she felt it too. …Would she have broken off her engagement to see where things would go between us? …It was moot point. I would likely never see her again. …But if I could go back… if I could do it again… if I could have a second chance to see her and talk to her… I wouldn't make the same mistake again. I would pursue her. I would make the most of the limited number of moments in life that truly felt good and right, like last night.

"Sara…? What are you doing?" The voice drifted to me from the crowd, and I looked up in alarm, seeing her standing there, just as beautiful as the night before, staring at me in shock. Her jaw was dropped, her eyes wide… and two of the girls she'd been with the night before—not the friend I'd talked to, but two others—were in front of her several paces, looking back to see why she'd stopped… and looking forward, at me, to see what she was looking at.

They recognized me too, and I was swallowing hard, unable to tear my eyes from Sara's, caught in the sheer improbability of such a thing.

I had just been telling myself… If only I could have a second chance, I wouldn't make the same mistake again… It looked like I'd been given a second chance.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. Hopefully with New Beginnings winding down, I'll update more consistently. :)

Thanks for everyone who has read and reviewed so far. :) I'll try to be better.

* * *

Chapter Four:

This could only happen to me.

I mean, really. I go out for my bachelorette party, chance upon the only man who has ever tempted me to cheat in my entire life, offer him what is not an invitation but certainly not a rejection, and he walks away from me… and then he's the famous Gil Grissom I've been waiting to meet for months.

…Seriously, I planned my wedding around this conference, not entirely but in large part because I wanted to see Gil Grissom speak. It would have worked far better if we'd gotten married this weekend rather than next… we'd had to switch our wedding venue about three different times because I'd been unwilling to move the date a week up. Jace had teased me that I was going to leave him for some middle-aged entomologist.

Apparently he'd been rather more accurate in his prediction than either of us had realized.

Regardless, the room was quieting and my shocked pose in the middle of the aisle would soon draw more attention than I wanted. I hurried up to my two friends who were equally surprised to find the man from the night before who they'd jokingly referred to as my future affair about to give our lecture, and we slid into three available seats in the third row.

I tried to play it off like it was nothing, despite the way his eyes burned into me the entire time he spoke. I think he was talking about a double murder in a garage, but I can't be sure—I was fighting off the burning feeling in my cheeks and the burning feeling between my thighs simultaneously and every time I glanced up, his soft lips were turned up in a smirk and his blue eyes positively struck me. I was trembling by the time he wrapped up his lecture and invited everyone down for questions.

I wanted to rush out of there, but I wasn't certain my knees could handle it, and anyway there was quite the back up of people trying to get out around the people trying to ask him questions… many of them women. At least I wasn't alone in my lusting over a middle-aged entomologist. Jace would be so happy.

I snorted at my own thoughts and forced myself to take a deep breath, before I seriously lost my cool. I reminded myself that I was a professional, at a professional conference, listening to a lecture given by a professional in my field of expertise, and despite the fact that I'd absolutely heard none of the lecture I'd scheduled my wedding around hearing, that didn't mean I couldn't walk out of here with my head held high and return to life as usual.

And I intended to do just that. I stood up, put my shoulders back and my chin up, and without exchanging a glance with Kim or Anne, I moved out of our row and into the throng of people moving slowly towards the exits.

I mistook how many people were waiting to ask him questions—I had thought I had time to get past him before half of them cleared, but most were headed towards exits which were suddenly far clearer than a moment before. The pace picked up, the crowd cleared, and I was exposed.

"Sara!"

I let my eyes close briefly, grit my teeth, and made my way over to him. I raised an eyebrow and gave my best attempt at dry, sarcastic indifference. "Dr. Grissom. …Or was it 'Vegas'?"

He smiled at this, which was not the response I'd been going for. I was hoping he'd been as embarrassed of the previous night as I was… or, at least, that my use of his nickname would evoke the otherwise lacking shame I myself felt. "It's a small world, apparently. …You work at the lab here in San Francisco?"

I pursed my lips. "I do. Listen, I've got another lecture coming up…"

"Well then I'll make this fast. …Can I buy you dinner?"

My mouth opened uncertainly but I was already shaking my head. "I… I was at my bachelorette party, last night. I'm engaged. I… I'm getting married in a week."

He didn't half as put off as I would expect him to be—he just grinned. "So… Is that a no?"

I grit my teeth. "It's a no." I turned to walk away again, but he grabbed his papers and hurried to catch up to me.

"Okay. I get it. You're going to be a married woman, after all. No dates. …What about coffee?" At my disbelieving glance and raised eyebrow, he cleared his throat. "As colleagues. I'm sincerely interested in hearing your response to my lecture and the theories proposed therein. …And if, as colleagues, our conversation gradually shifts from the lecture to other topics, well that's perfectly innocent, isn't it?"

I shook my head. Despite the obvious attraction I felt for the man, I was a loyal woman. I would not cheat. "No, it isn't perfectly innocent and you know it. I really need to get to my lecture, Dr. Grissom."

He frowned and stopped walking, prompting me to do the same and forcing the people behind us to veer around us in irritation. "Can you really walk down the aisle and promise yourself to another man when you know what's between us?"

I narrowed my eyes in disbelief. "…Between us? There is nothing between us! I had a drink with you, in a bar, in a large group. I didn't even know your name until this morning!"

"And if I'd not been a gentleman, last night? If I'd pushed my luck… put my mouth where we both know you wanted it? Taken the kiss that I'd paid for…? Would you be able to say that nothing would have come of it? Would you be able to say that you wouldn't have thought about it… felt that it was more than a meaningless encounter occurring as the product of too much alcohol and all-too-encouraging friends?"

I swallowed, tearing my eyes from his because I couldn't handle the intensity. They were just so beautiful… so blue… and they were piercing through me in this moment. "I… I don't cheat."

"Then don't. You don't have to kiss me… you don't even have to date me. Just… spend some time with me, this week… as colleagues or friends or… acquaintances. …Let's get to know one another. …Can you really swear away the rest of your life without at least finding out if there's something here that's worth pursuing? …Something more than what you have with what's-his-face?"

I breathed in deeply for a moment, caught up in the conviction of his words and the unavoidable truth and logic. We did have… an attraction. …A connection. Would it be foolish to get married without exploring it? I shook my head, letting my own anger flare up and chase the words from my head. "I love my fiancé. I love him and I… I don't need to see what's here, because he gives me everything I want."

I turned to walk away from him, and this time he didn't follow me, but he did call after me. "I'll… be at the same bar… tonight. Come see me. …Come see… where this is going."

"It isn't going anywhere!" I called behind me, still trekking towards the lecture I was surely late for, trying to push 'Vegas' from my mind.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: We're finally getting into more of the meat of the story now. :) Let me know what you think! I'm excited about this chapter.

As always, thanks to everyone for the reviews. They mean the world to me.

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Chapter Five:

I was more than ten minutes late for my next lecture and opted not to go. I hated walking in late. I had given myself time for lunch after it, which meant that I had two hours stretching out in front of me with nothing to do… and nowhere to go.

Jace was working strange hours while he worked on his Master's Thesis. He had paid for college by working as a mechanic and even though he didn't really have the time during the day anymore, his boss paid him to come in at night to do work so that he wouldn't be without money while he was working on it. The problem was that he wasn't being paid hourly anymore, but flat rates for specific tasks completed—which meant that he didn't come home at a certain time, but when he was done with whatever he'd spent the night working on.

What this meant, of course, is that if I went home… I would either have to sit in silence, no television or music at all, to not wake him up… or he would already be up and wondering why I wasn't at the conference I'd been talking about for months and months.

I hadn't done anything wrong—I had crossed no invisible line. I wasn't naïve enough to believe that I would never be attracted to another man as long as Jace and I were married… And I just had to understand that being attracted to someone else didn't mean I should leave the man I loved to chase that fluttery feeling of meeting someone new.

Still… I didn't want to explain myself.

I walked to a vegetarian restaurant on campus and sat down, taking my time in ordering—I was going to be here a while. I even asked for a newspaper to keep myself occupied… I did the crossword and the Sudoku and read the comics and caught up on local news (something I never paid attention to) and still found myself… drifting.

I couldn't focus… couldn't stop thinking about the man whose mind I had idolized for years, and whose body I had lusted over the previous night, and whose face would not leave me in peace right now. …And I had planned to attend two of his other lectures today… lectures I had been eagerly awaiting. …Lectures I still very much wanted to see.

I walked slowly back to campus nearing the time my next lecture—his next lecture—would be starting, and waited until the room was fairly full before slipping in the back and choosing a seat behind a girl with rather large hair. I slumped down in my seat—this way I could listen and glean information without evoking another confrontation. I had had quite enough of 'Vegas,' thank you very much.

Rachel was going to pay for her brilliant bachelorette party idea.

He stepped up to the podium, and being rather less surprised this time, I took the time to really look at him in more depth. …He seemed… tired. He seemed… like the type of man who didn't frequent bars or pick up women who were getting married in a week. He seemed like… a man who wouldn't ask a woman to explore what was between them if he didn't really mean it. …He seemed like his heart wasn't really in his lecture, despite everything I'd heard about him being a passionate speaker.

To be fair—those people had said his lectures were dull… but they had also said that he was passionate about his topic… but nobody else was.

I passed the rest of the day in much the same fashion—I slipped in and out of his lectures, sat behind people with hats or who were particularly tall—and then I headed home, calling Jace on the way.

"Hey babe," he answered. I could tell by the clatter that followed that he was attempting to cook. I say attempting, because despite my many attempts to teach him, he still struggled with simple recipes.

"Hi! How was your day?"

"Great! I met with Professor Robbins around noon and he read over the rough draft of my first section—he said he thinks it sounds great so far!"

I smiled. "Awesome! I told you you'd be great."

I could hear his smile through the phone. "And I should always listen to you. So, I have to head into work, but I figured we'd have a nice dinner—this is kind of a big deal for me, and it's your first day of the conference… I want to hear all about it!"

I grit my teeth. I had been anticipating telling him all about it, before I knew that 'Vegas' from the night before and the famous Gil Grissom were one in the same. I breathed in, taking a moment to solidify my 'happy' voice. "Sounds wonderful. What did you make me?"

I could also hear his frown through the phone. "Well… I tried to start some hamburger helper, but… I think I burned the meat."

"…You think? What makes you think that?"

"…The smoking…and the fire alarm going off…and the meat turning black…"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Should I stop at the grocery store on the way home…?"

"No, I think there's all the fixings for your lasagna here…"

I sighed happily—I really did love him. No ocean-eyed entomologist was going to make me doubt it. I couldn't wait to get home, open a bottle of wine, make that lasagna, hear about what his professor had to say about his paper, and curl up in bed early. He'd been working so much lately that it had been weeks since we'd made love and I was aching for him. It had been too long but… It could be a great night.

I pulled up outside our apartment, parking and gathering my things and rushing inside, smelling the burning smell even before the door was opened. His head peeked around the corner from the kitchen, his dark hair falling into his face and looking thoroughly tousled just the way I liked. The only thing better was when he was shirtless in the garage, working on a car. He'd shown me how to take a car apart when I had been unable to do said task in the lab, but I'd had to interrupt the lesson—he just looked too damn good all sweaty and greasy. I grinned and closed the door, slipping out of my shoes and moving forward to kiss him.

"Hi hon. I'm kicking you out."

He smiled and kissed my forehead. "I figured as much. Do you trust me to make the salad?"

I opened my mouth to say 'yes' but thought better of it—I liked lots of vegetables in my salads and while I didn't exactly thing he'd cut anything off, I also wasn't confident about the idea of him wielding a knife. "…I trust you to open a bottle of wine." I suggested instead, thinking myself very diplomatic.

He frowned. "I've got to work tonight, babe. Didn't I tell you? Al's got a rush on a transmission replacement. Said he'll pay me double if I can get it done by tomorrow afternoon. I'll probably work straight through and come home and crash around three or four…"

I tilted my head, pausing in the process of pulling out a pan for the lasagna. "…So, you'll be getting home and going to sleep just as I'll be home for the day?"

He glanced at me in curiosity. "I guess… Are you upset, honey?"

I frowned. "Well… I mean, I know it's work but… you'll sleep all evening and then what? Wake up when I go to bed? Why not just stay up and we'll go to bed early, together—I'm sure I'll be tired."

"I'm working tomorrow night, babe, otherwise I would."

I scowled. "…We're not hurting for money, Jace. Why all the extra hours?"

He raised an eyebrow. "We've got a wedding to pay for, and that honeymoon we've been planning. I mean, I know it's a year away, but…"

He trailed off and I finally stood upright, setting the pan on the stove and turning away from it. "…But what? That's exactly the point, Jace. The wedding is paid for, and the honeymoon is a year away. We're getting married in less than a week and I'm hardly going to see you all week. …It's been almost a month since we made love."

He gave me a soft smile and moved over to me, kissing my forehead again. "Sara, honey… I'm just trying to help us get ahead. I… want to take you on the honeymoon you deserve, not just scrape by at some two star hotel."

I felt my gaze softening and kissed him again. "And… the sex?"

He grinned and winked at me. "What do you think the wedding night is for?"

I smiled and went to work making the meal… but I couldn't focus. His words… his working so much… was nagging at the back of my mind. It didn't feel right, but I couldn't place what exactly seemed off. And I felt guilty for that, because part of the reason I was so distracted was because I kept glancing at the clock, wondering if Vegas was at the bar yet. …Jace wouldn't be home all night. It couldn't hurt to go get one drink…

I tried to talk myself out of it… tried to tell myself that it was so much smarter to stay home and get some sleep… go over final wedding plans with Rachel or something… but the fact of the matter was that Jace didn't _have_ to go in tonight, he was choosing to. …He didn't _have_ to work through tomorrow, and he didn't have to work again the next night.

…And if he didn't feel like staying home with me, why should I stay home alone?


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Let me know what you think! :) You readers apparently have trust issues... I don't think there was one of you that doesn't think Jace is cheating. Hehe.

I like Grissom and Sara in this chapter... Just sayin'.

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Chapter Six:

Let me be honest here—I hoped she would come. I wanted her to come. I even went so far as to detain one of her friends after my next lecture, a girl who I knew had been in the bar the night before with her, and ask about Sara. I didn't learn much—I learned that she and this girl were work friends more than anything. They had shared a few meals and she'd met the fiancé a few times when he came in to the lab to see her or drop off keys or something, but other than that, was not a source of real authority. She seemed reluctant to talk to me as it was, though, so perhaps she knew more than she was letting on.

What I did learn was that her fiancé was likely far more attractive than me. She didn't say as much, but he was younger, and though he was getting his Masters—in what, she didn't know—he worked as a mechanic. Smart, young, and probably had a body that would put mine to shame.

I mean… I wouldn't say that I'm overweight, but I'm not exactly well-muscled either.

And I learned that Sara had known of me, before we met—that she'd scheduled her wedding around this conference in order to see me speak. …This information should have been heartening. She admired me professionally and the serendipitous nature of our meeting had to be toying with her as much as my words—and those were toying with her… I had seen as much in her eyes. But I wasn't all that hopeful—she hadn't attended any of my lectures, despite how excited I her friend claimed she had been. So maybe the reality didn't live up to the fantasy.

I almost didn't show, because I was so certain that she wouldn't come and I'd be left, alone in a bar, with my thoughts and her rejection to keep me company. But on the off chance I was wrong… that she might change her mind… that little sliver of hope had me changing into jeans and a fresh button down in my hotel, eating downstairs in the restaurant with nothing less than absolute haste, and making my way to the bar. I had to keep reminding myself that I was early—she might have gone to work after the conference, or very well might still be eating supper… I would need to wait all night to be certain.

The agony of waiting and not knowing—the very effort it took to remain in my seat, slowly sipping a drink over the course of several hours so as to remain sober—was excruciating. I wanted to jump up and run away and live with the uncertainty of did she or didn't she rather than have to endure the certainty of No, she didn't. But I sat it out as the hours passed.

At six, when I arrived, the bar was mostly empty, and I was the only person on the upper floor, watching the bar tended wipe and re-wipe his bar top down when his manager came by, so that he would look busy, but turn to talk to the unoccupied waitresses when the manager slipped into the back again.

At seven there was a smattering of more people present—a group of guys down by the pool tables, two women sitting at the bar and flirting with the same bar tender, a new bartender arriving at the bar up here and going through it, making sure he was well stocked in ice and other various necessities.

At eight it was starting to look like the same bar I'd seen the night before—the music was louder, the lights even lower, and a few people were dancing on the dance floor. The area around the downstairs bar was crowded, as were the pool tables and three quarters of the tables below. A trickle of people had begun to sit up where I was, and the bartender up here was occupied, if not busy.

At nine I got my second drink of the night, starting to feel more anxious. If she was coming, surely she'd be here soon. I wouldn't really have to wait all night with the crowds and the music and the undulating bodies a flight down on the dance floor…?

At ten, I started to despair—I downed the drink I had been sipping for an hour and ordered another, figuring that as long as I was making myself stay here all night I might as well be feeling good… because without the alcohol, feeling like shit was pretty much inevitable.

At ten thirty, I saw her. I didn't see her the minute she walked in, but I had been staring down at the dance floor, and I saw her struggling through the mass of bodies towards the stairs. Her hair had been up in a ponytail earlier today, and it had been down and curly the night before… now it was falling straight around her face, turned up at the ends. I turned towards the top of the stairs in disbelief, thinking that I must have been mistaken and that the woman who came from the stairwell would not be my Sara, but someone else entirely… a poor imitation.

But it was her. She stepped up into view, hair bouncing with her step over the top of the smooth, black leather jacket she had over her shoulders. It was open to a red tank top underneath, exposing the long line of her neck into her collar bone and the top of her chest. She was wearing tight blue jeans and heeled boots, and her eyes found mine only seconds away they swept over her body. Despite how nervous I felt, she didn't seem to look half as agitated—she fixed her gaze on me and moved forward with confidence, the slight sway in her hips doing inexplicable things to me.

She slid into the seat across from me and raised her finely-shaped eyebrows. "Vegas."

I couldn't help but grin. "I don't have a nickname for you…"

She pursed her lips in a fashion that had me hardening immediately and she glanced down at the rock on her left hand almost tauntingly, her eyes dancing, his voice amused. "…Taken."

I hesitated only a moment. "…Did you pick out your own ring?"

She looked surprised, and it pleased me to see her blinking uncertainly, that confidence shaken. "No. …No, I… Ja—My fiancé picked it out. Why?" A better question was…Why didn't she want me to know his name? Was it some sort of guilt thing… if she didn't say his name while here with me then she wasn't really betraying him? …Hey, whatever got her here and made her stay was fine with me.

"Nothing." I said, enjoying the slight flash of anger in her eyes. The waitress appeared then, taking her drink order—a Cosmopolitan. The woman asked me silently with her eyes if I wanted another and I shook my head. When she had gone, Sara leaned forward.

"No—not nothing. Why'd you ask about my ring?"

I shrugged, trying very hard to seem unconcerned. "It's just… big."

She blushed, telling me that I'd guessed correctly—she wasn't the type of girl to wear large, gaudy jewelry. "…Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?"

I shrugged again. "Is it?" She frowned and I leaned forward too. "It just seems like… nobody spends that much on a ring for no reason… especially not for a woman who doesn't wear large, expensive jewelry. Which leaves a few explanations. One—He doesn't think he deserves you… or he doubts your commitment. He feels like he has to buy your love and provide something otherworldly to keep your attention. Two—He's compensating for something." I gave her a grin and a wink and her eyes opened wide in surprise. "Three—He honestly thought you'd like it… which means that he doesn't know you at all." She frowned, but it seemed more contemplative than angry. "Or Four—he's hiding something. He doubts his own commitment… he knows he wants to marry you, but probably doesn't know if he only wants to sleep with one woman for the rest of his life. He's hiding his uncertainty in large gestures, hoping you won't notice the little signs that something's off. …Although, I hope it isn't the last one…for your sake."

She looked a little pale as her drink was set before her—She reached for her pocket but I was quicker, paying the waitress and waving her away. I wanted to know what her reaction would be to my words. She took a drink, avoiding my eyes, and finally cleared her throat, watching my hands on the table before me. "…Which one… are you hoping for, exactly?"

It seemed like she was saying this simply to respond… what I'd said had upset her, and she was on autopilot. I didn't want that—she'd go home and fight with him but not really remember the time she'd spent with me. I put on a grin. "Oh, a combination of the first three…"

She looked up at me, obviously not having remembered them clearly enough to get my attempt at teasing. I cleared my throat, holding up fingers to explain. "He doubts your commitment, doesn't know you at all, and disappoints you in bed."

She blushed, and I wondered if it was because some or all of what I'd said was true, or if she just wasn't used to talking about sex. She tried to recover, taking another drink and pulling that confidence back out of nowhere. "He has no reason to doubt my commitment."

I could have argued—she was here, wasn't she?—but I didn't want to make her feel guilty enough to leave. Instead… "Does he know you?"

Adamantly, she defended him. "Yes. He does. He knows me better than anyone."

I grinned wickedly then. "So there's our answer… Is he just not well-endowed, or is it a bigger problem? Not good at what he does, or into something freaky?" At her alarmed look I laughed out loud, wanting to get that rise out of her again and again. "Oh, I suppose you're the one unsatisfied… maybe you're into something freaky."

"I am not!" She said, taking another, rather deeper drink. I smirked.

"You notice you deny that you're kinky… but not that you're disappointed."

When she blushed this time, I knew how to interpret it. She hadn't told me that there were problems per se… mostly I'd embellished a joke in an effort to make her laugh and engage conversation… but in the process, she'd all but admitted that something was off… and it wasn't her, it was him.

I smiled softly, backing off a little… I liked teasing her, but I also wanted her to feel comfortable around me. "…I'm sorry. I think maybe I've had a little more than I should have. …Can we start over?"

She laughed softly, and I knew that I'd been instantly forgiven. Did this guy never apologize or what? "Sure… I think it's better that way." She held out a hand. "Gil Grissom—it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sara Sidle. …I found your paper in the last Journal of Forensic Science positively riveting."

I took her hand, gently brushing my thumb over the back of her hand as we shook. "You're the only one who thought so… most criminalists don't particularly enjoy the role of entomology in forensics."

She grinned. "I'm okay with being a minority…"

"A solitary entity." I corrected. She shook her head.

"No—you find it interesting too. I can tell… the way you speak. The way you write."

I felt the smirk curling my lips. "I guess that makes us a couple then."

She blushed again, and I felt warm all the way to my core. Even if she had no intention of this going anyway… she was here… and she was flirting… blushing at my provocations. I couldn't believe it, but I actually had a chance of winning this woman's heart over. It was a slim one, at best… but that slender sliver of hope was all I needed. She took a drink, not knowing how to respond, and I threw another confidence smile at her.

"...Do you play pool?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

Okay, I admit it. I was… less than honest. But to be fair—did this man deserve my absolute honesty, all things considered? The way he'd been baiting me… No. No, he did not.

I shrugged. "I… have played…"

He grinned. "Come on, I'll show you… It's easy."

I shook my head. "No… I don't wanna lose a bunch of money."

He raised an eyebrow. "…We don't have to bet on it. I just thought it'd be… fun."

I rolled my eyes. "Where's the fun if you're not betting?" I teased.

He grinned and stood up, taking my hand and dragging me to my feet. "Trust me… if I take too much money from you, I promise I'll let you pay off your debt in other ways." He winked and guided me down the stairs slowly, because we were each carrying a drink in our free hands… he did not let go of my hand all the way down, through the throng of dancers, and over to the pool tables. It was warm… the fingers and pads on the palm just slightly calloused, the rest very soft. It was bigger than mine, and made my hand feel safe.

…Which, you know, is crazy. What, exactly, was my hand so afraid of, that it needed to feel safe? Ridiculous. …Still though, I didn't pull away. It felt nice.

We had to wait for a table, though luckily we were in a rather large establishment and after fifteen minutes of watching two guys try to outplay each other while their girlfriends watched impatiently, they were dragged away and we moved to the table. Vegas asked me to save the table—he was going to get change from the bartender so we could play. I had wanted to spent some times looking at cues…

Pool was about physics… and if there was anything I knew well, it was physics. So a good pool stick, a little provocation and the helpless female act and I'd probably walk away a couple hundred dollars richer. Which, you know, could go towards our honeymoon… keep Jace from working so much.

I slid up to sit on the edge of the table, thinking that if I weren't here right now… if Jace had stayed home… we could have taken wine to bed early. I could put on the nightie he liked, play some music… I let my eyes flicker closed, imagining my lover and friend kissing and caressing me. I was only here because I had a small crush on a man and I had felt lonely… neglected. Maybe I just should have stayed home and taken care of my frustrations myself. There'd be less guilt, at least.

I opened my eyes—Vegas was stuck behind several people waiting for drinks from the very busy bartender. I closed them again, imagining the texture of his chest and arms, muscled from all the time he spent with his cars, and the sound of his breath coming fast against my cheeks as he kissed me. The smoothness of his lips and the scrape of his calloused hands and the press of him between my thighs. The way he would hold out… make me wait to feel him until I felt like I couldn't take it anymore… the delicious pressure of the first moment he pushed inside and the feel of his hands gripping my hips. I felt my heart rate speeding up, imagining my toes curling up in pleasure… the way I would come first and then open my eyes in time to see him finish…

I played it out, my toes curling in my boots at the thought, feeling each movement I made in my mind—my arching back, my nails gripping tight, my calves tightening around his hips or his legs… and then the delicious pleasure of opening my eyes in afterglow, sleepy and sated, to see—

My eyes snapped open in alarm. It hadn't just been Jace's face in my mind. It had been Dr. Grissom's and… and I should not be here. I needed to leave… I needed to—

"Hey. Sorry that took so long." He bent and put the coins in, taking out the balls as they came free and piling them on the table. "…You should probably get down."

I looked at him in surprise, only half-listening. "I… What? Why?"

He stood up fully, having retrieved all the balls, and moved in front of me, placing his hands on on the table on either side of my hips and leaning in closer to me. "…Because you're inspiring all kinds of pool-table-related fantasies, and if you don't get down… I might not be responsible for my actions."

I blushed, feeling heat low in my abdomen. Good lord, that was hot. …Jace never talked like that to me.

I shook my head—Jace loved me—and slid down without thought, seeking only to end this conversation… and instead putting myself in direct proximity. Goose bumps shot through my body at the nearness and I inhaled sharply. He smirked and leaned just a little closer, watching me shiver at the feel of his breath on my neck, and then backed off, moving to set up the balls in the triangle.

It took me a second, but I recovered—shaking my head and moving away from him on the pretense of selecting a stick while I got my bearings. No matter how neglected or frustrated or lonely I felt, it was no excuse for cheating. No matter how… sexy… Dr. Grissom? …Vegas was… it didn't matter. There was no excuse. I picked a cue that looked fairly unbent and returned to the table, firmly telling myself that this was nothing—a crush that I was allowing myself to get caught up in because I was emotional. And why wouldn't I be emotional? Our wedding was in a week and I hardly saw him… I just needed to keep telling myself that—I wasn't being reasonable and I could not make any decision based on how I felt tonight.

He was at my side a moment later, his own stick in hand. "So… I'll go easy on you, the first round. Do you want to bet, or wait a game to get back into the swing of things?"

I stood up a little straighter, reminding myself that I was playing him—which meant I couldn't let his sly non-advances affect me. This was supposed to be happening the other way around. "If you're going easy on me, why wouldn't I want to bet? I've got nothing to lose… right?"

He grinned. "Then what's in it for me? …I think, with every turn, there should be consequences—you miss a shot, you answer a question."

"And if you miss?"

He threw me a grin. "I won't. …But, if I do, I'll answer anything you want me to."

I looked at him for a long moment—if I wanted to screw him over, I would have to pretend to not be very good, at first… which would mean answering a lot of questions. But he'd said he'd go easy on me, so it would probably be a wash… He knew better than to beat the woman he was trying to woo at a game she said she wasn't good at, right?

"Fine. …But only if you're actually going to go easy on me."

"Cross my heart." His eyes danced and I felt a swooping in my stomach. God, but he was just so damned sexy. This would be so much easier if he… wasn't. He put a five down on the table and I fished one out myself, laying it next to his.

"Do you want to break?" he offered, and I shook my head in what I hoped was a meek fashion. He stepped up, bent over, and made the shot—a striped ball flew into one of the corner pockets. He grinned and walked slowly around the table to set up another shot while I leaned on my cue, watching. He was fairly good—he hadn't picked the best shot on the table, but I figured that was because of his promise to be nice. He shot and made it, and at my scowl, promptly missed a shot intentionally.

I stepped up and he stepped close beside me. "You know which balls to hit… right?"

His voice was soft, teasing… half-whispering in a fashion that was utterly seductive. I raised an eyebrow. "On the table or off?" He smiled at my threat, though his eyes narrowed in discomfort, and I stepped away from him, and surveying the table. "You have to answer a question now, don't you?"

"Ask me anything."

"…Why are you so vehemently pursuing an almost-married woman?"

I glanced up at him and he shrugged. "I've never met anyone who affected me the way you have… there's something… big… between us. I can't just disregard that."

I leaned over, picking the most obvious shot and intentionally lining it up wrong. "Are you sure you don't just want what you know you can't have?" I pulled the cue back, but his hand fell over mine and all of a sudden he was around me, his chest pressed to my back and his hands covering mine, adjusting my angle.

His voice came in that same husky, whispery tone, right again my ear. "…That's more than one question." He released me, and I took a deep breath before shooting. The ball fell in neatly and he smiled. "See? You just need some help…"

I moved around the table, leaning over again, prepared for his presence this time and almost surprised when it didn't come. I glanced up at him suspiciously. "Not helping this time…?"

"If I do that, I'll never get you to answer any questions."

I shook my head, lined up my shot and missed. The smirk on his lips should have made me happy that he believed the act—instead, it just sent heat and chills down my arms, simultaneously. I held the cue and put my weight on one hip, my free hand resting at the top of my jeans. "Well?"

I expected him to pry into why I hadn't denied a problem in my sex life… I expected him to ask me what kind of underwear I was wearing or what position I liked best… I expected him to ask me about Jace in an attempt to compare himself.

"…What's your… happiest childhood memory?"

I blinked. I had not been expecting that.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but they do do such good things when I play with them...

A/N: Let me know what you think! ...This is like the longest game of pool ever. :) Also, I was going to put this in the last chapter but apparently I posted it without putting anything in the last chapter, not even a disclaimer, but I've played pool only sparingly, and never well. So if my lingo or descriptions are a little off... I'm sorry. I googled "How do you play pool?" in order to write this chapter. :)

Hope you enjoy. Also, this is probably the last update for the day--it's the fiance and I's three year anniversary on the 12th, so we're going out for it tonight. :) Hopefully the last two chapters can tide you over 'til tomorrow...

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Chapter Eight:

"I… what?"

He smiled, and this smile seemed to be the most genuine I'd seen so far. "I… wanted you to come here so that we could get to know each other… not so that I could push the line between flirting and sexual harassment." At my blush, he grinned. "Not that that isn't fun too… But I want to know more about who you are, as a person."

I frowned and he smiled, looking around for his next shot. I had very few happy childhood memories—I mean, as a child I had often been happy but… looking back at those moment with an adult eye, it was like a dark veil placed over something once bright and shiny. Baking cookies with my mother—waking up to the thumping against the walls, because my mom didn't have enough eggs for the breakfast my father had wanted. At the time I hadn't known the two were connected… as an adult, the memory was enough to make me think I'd never eat another chocolate chip cookie again.

He tilted his head at me. "Too many to choose from?"

I offered a smile, though I knew it didn't reach my eyes. I settled on one of the few that didn't have some particular cast over it. "…My dad teaching me to ride my first bike outside the B&B. I was… six, I think. He and my brother had taken me to pick it out, because they'd sold my brother's first bike at a rummage sale before I was born. It was bubblegum pink, with a white seat, pedals, and handlebars…and a white basket on the handlebars. …There were flowers and… maybe a Barbie sticker… on it… and sparkly silver streamers from the handlebars. I was scared but…"

I smiled at the memory, having not expected to actually feel good reliving a moment from my childhood.

"…My brother and I would play superheroes. …He was a lot older than me, but it was one of the games he still thought was fun, or… at least would humor me with. He ran and got his superman cape from Halloween when he was younger and tied in around my neck, and when I peddled and my dad held on… I could go fast enough that the cape flew out behind me and my brother said I looked like I was flying. …In a few days he had me whizzing down the hills of town with him, my cape flying behind me. …I felt like I was wonder woman."

I glanced at him when I finished, a little uncertain and surprised at myself for this revelation… but he just grinned and lined up a shot, making it and promptly missing the next one on purpose. I smiled, turning his question around on him… because I had a feeling that this answer would be so much more satisfying than snapping at him about why he wanted me here… when I knew, even if I wouldn't admit it to myself, that I wanted to be here as well.

"Your happiest… childhood memory."

He smiled, watching as I surveyed the table. "I don't know if just one moment stands out in my mind. …It's more like a place. My dad was a botanist, so we can a big greenhouse out back. In the summer it was always unbearably warm and sticky, but in the winter, when it was cooler during the days… I would go in there with him. Then the warm, moist feeling was welcome… He was perpetually dirty, smears of dirt on his nose and a line under his fingernails. He would have a portable radio out there with him, set to a classical station… Sometimes I would help him or watch him… but lots of times I would lean against the table he had out there, sitting in the warm dirty barefoot, and read while he worked. …He used to call it our 'man time' when my mother would complain that she wouldn't see us for hours and then we both came back covered in soil. …It was out there that I fell in love with bugs. He liked to teach me which ones were good for his plants and which ones weren't…"

And I could see it vividly in my mind—a little boy with curly locks, probably lighter than his hair was now, and big blue eyes… leaning against a wooden table leg, innocent, bare little toes curling into the dirt, nose stuck into a large book while the sounds of classical music and gardening tools being picked up and set down crept in the background.

I didn't intend to miss this shot—I just did. I was still thinking about that little boy. He came up behind me. "Try again—I meant to help you with your first shots through this first game, but I got caught up… Here." He moved me to an easy shot and bent over me again, his warm, broad, solid chest against my back, his hands guiding mine to make the shot. I cleared my throat as he pulled back to stand erect.

"I, uh… Did you want me to keep going or… since I missed the first one…"

His smile was soft… almost lazy. "Keep going."

And my response to him this time was different—not the sharp, sudden realization of a bodily reaction… but the slow, warm, seeping kind of response to a constant stimulus—a familiar lover. How strange. My smile was lazy too. I picked an easy shot and made it, despite my aim being just slightly off. I missed the next and turned to him, expectant. He smiled. "…Another memory."

And though the first time he asked this I was apprehensive… this time I was not. "…My mom always told me that this wasn't a real memory—I'd just heard it told so often that I thought it was, but… I swear I remember this trip to the beach. I must have been two or three…my dad was working, but my mom stayed at home while I was little, and it was summer so my brother wasn't in school. We'd started getting ready just after breakfast—sunscreen and swimsuits and towels and packing a lunch, and then we'd walked down—we lived just a few blocks from the beach—and as soon as we reached the sand, I plopped down, pulled off my sandals, stuck my toes in and squealed… and then took off towards the water. My mom says I scared the life out of her—a two or three year old who had walked nicely by her side despite traffic and other pedestrians, and then the minute she stops worrying about me getting hit by a car, I take off towards the ocean."

I glanced at him and shook my head. "I don't remember all of that lead up… I remember the feeling of warm sand on my feet, and… I remember thinking I wanted to pick a good spot, because Brandon had been talking all morning about how to choose the best one—close to the water, but not too close… away from the crowds, with lots of sun… not a lot of rocks, because then there would probably be rocks in the water that would hurt your feet. And I remember my brother scooping me up and yelling at me for running off… I remember crying."

He frowned. "…That's one of your happiest memories?"

I smiled. "Well, I mean… I was happy until they stopped me. And it makes me smile now… three-year-old me wasn't all that different from twenty-six-year-old me. …Excitable, curious… eager to prove myself. …Emotional, especially when an authority figure is telling me 'no'."

I hadn't intended to give so much personal information, but the truth was I felt very comfortable with him already. He smirked. "For some reason that doesn't surprise me… You look like you've got one hell of a temper."

My eyes widened in surprise—I did, but I hadn't given him any indication of that—and he chuckled, proceeding to put another two balls in and then miss the third, intentionally. He glanced at me and I swallowed, thinking. "…Tell me about… your first kiss."

He grinned, leaning back against the table while I pretended to be thinking about my shot. "I played baseball, in middle school… but I wasn't very popular. I was the science nerd with the deaf mom and the dead dad so…you know, I was weird." My eyes snapped up to his when he mentioned his parents—his dad had died young too. I was that weird kid too. "…Anyway, I didn't really get along with the guys on the team but I was a decent player. After one of our games—my mom hadn't been able to make it… an employee had called in sick so she had to cover for her at the gallery—everyone went out for pizza because we'd won but I knew I wasn't really welcome, despite the invitation being shouted to the whole team in the locker room. So I took my time, everyone else filing out ahead of me to walk the few blocks over to the pizza place, and I was walking out alone after everyone had gone."

A waitress appeared, asking if we wanted refills as he paused and I quickly told her what we were drinking. As she left, I met his eyes and he continued.

"Outside the doors… there was a girl I had in my math class. …Not the type of girl who would go to a school game, but… she was very pretty. She said she'd been waiting for me… she wanted to tell me that she'd come to see me play and that she thought I'd done really well. …I can still remember how hot my ears felt, when she said that." He grinned at me, taking the drink offered to him by the waitress and continuing as she moved away. "Anyway… my mother raised a gentleman, so I offered to walk her home. She shook her head, asking why I wasn't getting pizza with the rest of the team… She must have heard them talking about it while she was waiting for me to come out. I shrugged and she stopped, right by the bleachers and pushed me back against the metal supports."

His ears were red just describing this rather brave middle school girl. "She told me how stupid they all were and then she kissed me." He paused, seeming to be deep in thought while I imagined a middle school Gil Grissom—curly hair a little darker, baseball cap askew on his head, eyes still bright… face a little younger, body lean and lanky with the long muscles of early teenage, his ears bright red from her compliment. "…I jumped about a foot when she put her tongue in my mouth."

I turned to him in surprise, startled out of my reverie, and laughed—both at the grin on his face and at my own surprise and at the ballsy girl from his math class who had known exactly what she wanted when she looked at him. …Not that I could blame her. He laughed too, and then we were both laughing, doubled over, clinging to our pool cues for support.

It felt good, to laugh with him. …Too good. Way, way too good.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: :) Hope you enjoy. Thanks, as always, for the wonderful reviews.

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Chapter Nine:

I won the first four games… learning that Sara had gotten her first kiss at a bonfire on the beach, put on by one of her friends in AP Chemistry—she had called it a 'study session' complete with fire and chemistry. And Sara, who had never gone to a party, had been happy to say screw the Bunsen burners and go to the event. It was sweet, and romantic… a moonlit walk and a kiss under the stars… until the guy tried to put his hand up her shirt and she punched him so hard he actually dropped to the sand.

…Have I mentioned how intoxicated I am with this woman? That story did nothing but bring this reality into sharper focus.

I learned other things, but as the games went on and the stakes went up, the sharing became less compulsory and more spontaneous—we were just talking, one thought spilling onto another and spurring on more and more stories between us. By the time she'd told me that she'd joined the mile high club when she was 21, flying to Miami for Spring Break, the bet was up to three hundred, and I was starting to feel guilty for all the money I'd taken from her… she'd been drinking a lot more than me.

I'd have to make sure I slipped it back in her pocket before she left tonight.

She offered to break this time, and though she seemed a little unsteady on her feet, her hands were more than steady—she broke, and two solids flew into pockets. At my look of surprise, she grinned. "…Something else you don't know about me—my undergrad degree is in theoretic physics. Pool _is_ physics."

She then proceeded to move around the table, sinking each of her balls in turn and then the eight ball, as if it were nothing. As that final, black ball slid in, she met my eyes and stood confidently—one leg out in a dominant stance, her pool cue braced in her hand and against the floor, her hips cocked out at an arrogant angle. She blew playfully across the tip of her stick, as if blowing the smoke from the tip of a gun, and her smile was infectious.

"…You hustled me!" I accused.

She picked up the money, folded it twice, and slipped it into her shirt. "…You allowed yourself to be hustled," she countered, and I stared at her in surprise. She just chuckled, replacing her pool cue in the rack on the wall.

"Come on… dance with me." She downed the rest of her drink—was it her third or fourth? Fourth, I was almost certain. I opened my mouth to disagree, but she had slipped her slender hand into mine and was already pulling me into the throng… and though I didn't think I would be very good at this kind of dancing, she did not seem nearly as concerned. She backed up against me, her back to my chest and her perfect ass up against my groin, already starting to twist her hips to the music.

My hands moved to her waist automatically, and a glance around told me that this was all she expected—holding her hips and moving in time with her. I closed my eyes—good lord, I was obviously too old for this if my first thought while a gorgeous brunette was grinding against me was 'Kids these days.' Still… the feel of her was intoxicating, and when she slowly turned around, draping her arms around my neck, and proceeded to do the same kind of dance against a rapidly growing erection, her eyes lazy and glassy and out of focus… there was nothing to do but grip her waist more tightly and move along with her.

Even if it did seem like a small step away from vertical, public sex.

Several songs later I was convinced that the ache I felt would never be satisfied, even if she wasn't engaged and taking her back to my hotel tonight was an option… which it wasn't. She was drunk… beyond drunk… and I could ruin everything by taking advantage of that. She said she was thirsty and dragged us back over to the bar, ordering herself another drink—but I ordered a water and halfway through the cosmopolitan she was drinking like water, I replaced one with the other and directed her to drink that instead. She frowned, but she listened… and then her eyes were drooping.

I frowned, eyeing her up and down. She was pretty thin… how much alcohol could she really tolerate? I needed to get her home… "Come on, Sara… We're going."

She nodded, tired, and let me put an arm around her and guide her out. The cool air hit us fast and her eyes snapped open. She seemed a little more aware, which was definitely a good thing. I glanced at her. "…Do you think you can tell me how to get to your place?"

She blinked several times, nodding. "Yeah. …Yeah. I… You need to get on the interstate and head towards… It's just off the Berkeley campus."

I nodded and unlocked my car, setting her gently into the passenger seat and hurrying around. Her eyes were already closed. "Sara…" I shook her shoulder gently and her eyes flickered open. "You have to stay awake to tell me how to get you home… I can't carry you in to your house, unless you want your fiancé to know how you spent the night…"

Not that we'd done anything wrong, but I was fairly certain that she hadn't told him about me. She wouldn't be here, tonight, if their relationship was so good that she could openly tell him about me and that she wanted to see where it went. …If their relationship was like, she wouldn't want to see where this went, would she?

She shook her head, her eyes closing again. "It doesn't matter. He won't be… home…"

I frowned. "…Why wouldn't he be home? …Sara, it's almost two a.m."

She shook her head again. "He's… working… all night."

I didn't like the sound of that. She had had quite a lot for her size… and I had no idea how much she could tolerate. She hadn't gotten sick yet, but there hadn't been enough time for that last drink to enter her system… Had she eaten before coming out? This felt like something I should have asked her hours ago. …I made a snap decision. I didn't want her alone until I was sure she'd be fine.

"I'm bringing you home with me."

She shook her head again. "No. …I… I love Jace. …No matter how sexy you are."

I smirked, feeling heat in my ears, and started the car, driving her slowly to my hotel while urging her to drink water from a water bottle I had in the back of my car. Sure, it was warm, but it was better than nothing. I didn't want her to get dehydrated. At my hotel I helped her out of my car—her speech was slurred as she asked me where we were and I told her, again, that we were at my hotel.

She shook her head, stumbling while we walked. "No… I… I don't want this."

I frowned. "I'm not… going to sleep with you, Sara. I'm going to make sure you don't die while you're sleeping it off…"

She frowned. "…Can I trust you? …I really shouldn't trust you."

"Do you?" I asked, more to keep her aware and awake until we got to my room.

"Your name _is_ 'Vegas'." She said, as if that gave me an answer. I frowned.

"My name is Gil. …Call me Gil."

I braced her weight against me to unlock the outside door in back of the building. We struggled through the door, and then I was leading her down the hall to my room, thankful that I'd been given a room with two doubles rather than the King-sized bed I requested. I had no intentions of pushing this too far, but if I curled up in bed with her and she touched me, even in her sleep, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions—I was mostly sober, but I'd had enough to make me doubt myself.

I unlocked the hotel door and helped her inside, closing and locking it behind me. I turned around, turning on the light, to find her lying on her back on the bed, her eyes closed. I sighed, moving over to her and shaking her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

I watched her for a long moment, and then pulled her pant legs up to unzip her boots and pull them off one at a time. Then I moved to one side of the bed, pulling her to sit up and sliding the smooth, soft leather jacket from her delicate shoulders. Her eyes opened again and fixed on me with more clarity than I'd seen in the last hour. "…You paid for a kiss, last night."

I smiled softly, adamantly not allowing myself to push this where she was inviting me to. "I kissed your hand…"

She shook her head as I let the jacket fall to the floor. The movement made her sway and I caught her upper arms, steadying her. "That doesn't count." She insisted.

I smiled. "Let's scoot you up to the pillows, honey…" I tried to maneuver her but she just fell back down to the mattress, her head a foot below the pillow. I sighed and moved to lean over top of her, slipping my hands under her shoulder blades and scooting her up until her head landed on the pillows. When I set her down, however, I lurched forward and had no hand to stop myself—my chest fell across hers and a moment later I was standing up, despite her eyes fluttering open again.

"…Would you jump… if I stuck my tongue in your mouth?"

My heart was racing, and I looked decidedly away from her. "…If you did it right now, I would go take a very, very cold shower. …Sleep now, Sara." Her eyes closed again and I folded the blankets from the other side of the bed over her, rather than trying to pull her side out from under her. I went to the bathroom and took said cold shower, despite the lack of her tongue in my mouth, and changed into clean boxers and a white t-shirt. I brushed my teeth, set the alarm clock, brought the garbage can over to her bedside, just in case, and counted her breathing just to make sure she wasn't suffering from alcohol poisoning… and finally, turned the lights off and crawled into my own bed, feeling like it was the last thing in the world I wanted to be doing with her so near.

I thought that I wouldn't be able to sleep at all… that I would be so worried about her that I would stay awake all night… But I felt my eyes getting heavy and despite the lumpy nature of the bed, it felt soft and warm and welcoming. I knew that I wasn't going to last all night… so with a lingering glance at the other bed, I gave in and let myself drift to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: GSRCSILVR, your wish is my command. :)

csiKathy, I promise, you can have this Grissom if Sara decides she doesn't want him. Although... you might want to watch out. In my experience, Sara has had this vulture problem where Grissom is concerned... :P

Hope everyone enjoys! Thanks for the reviews!! They make my day!

* * *

Chapter Ten:

I woke up with a pounding headache, and when I didn't recognize the ceiling above me or the bed and blankets around me… I panicked.

In an instant I was flinging myself out of bed, sheets wrapped around my legs making me hit the wall I was apparently right next to with a loud SMACK before I crumpled to the floor. I gave myself a minute to get my bearings, this time, taking in the barely-there light around the edges of the thick, hotel curtains and the soft snoring coming from off to my right. I sat up slowly this time, disentangling my legs and pulling myself up to stand more slowly, gritting my teeth against the pounding in my skull.

Dr. Gr—Vegas… was not in the bed I'd just flown out of, despite my first assumptions… he was in the spare one… completely innocent-looking in sleep, and apparently quite the gentleman. I didn't remember much from the night before after we left the bar… but I remembered saying something about putting my tongue in his mouth.

I moved toward the bathroom as quietly as I could, tripping over my boots at the end of the bed and sprawling forward again. God, with this kind of coordination I was inclined to believe I was still a little drunk. I pulled myself to my feet again, the heels of my palms stinging, and glanced over at his sleeping form again—he was still snoring, and he hadn't moved. I breathed a sigh of relief and moved into the bathroom more slowly this time, closing the door behind me before turning the lights on.

I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes squinted against the light and my hair up and crazy around my head. I glanced at the door, and then hesitantly dug through the small bag he had on the counter—first and foremost, I found Tylenol and took three, hoping they would kick in fast. Then I found a comb and ran it through my hair until it looked presentable, considering using his toothpaste on my finger and deciding it didn't matter—I needed to get out of here.

I mean, it wasn't that I didn't appreciate that he'd clearly been a gentleman… and knowing that, I could only assume that he had brought me here for innocent reasons. After all, I'd had quite a bit to drink if the pounding in my head could tell me anything… So I was grateful. I was.

But the idea of waking him up to tell him I was leaving, or waiting for him to wake up… I didn't know what I would say or… what it would mean. I didn't know how to talk to him, in this intimate and awkward and uncertain setting, and that sped up my actions. I went to the bathroom, straightened my clothes, and then turned off the light to slip back into the room silently.

I found my jacket and slid it over my shoulder and then sat on the edge of the bed, lifting one of my boots to slide it back onto my feet. It was half on my foot when his alarm went off. I froze, and then frantically hurried, tugging desperately at it and then grabbing the second boot. He turned it off and I froze again, turning to look—he wasn't moving. Maybe he'd just hit snooze… I stood up, thinking I'd slip out and put the other boot on in the hallways, but then his voice came through the darkness.

"…I didn't mean for… the night to end that way."

I let my eyes close. Damn it, why did this guy have to be so coherent seconds after waking? Jace usually took an hour and ridiculous amounts of caffeine to be half this lucid. I swallowed, half-turning to face him, uncertainly holding my boot in hand. "…I know. I… Thank you, for…" I trailed off, not sure what to say.

He sat up in bed, running a hand over his face and fixing me with a direct look. "…For not sleeping with you while you couldn't say no? Yeah, no problem." There was a brief pause and he sighed. "If you want to sneak out, I can lay back down and pretend to go back to sleep… although I don't know why you'd pay for a cab when I can give you a ride. …Unless you're worried about Jace seeing me drop you off."

I frowned. I had intentionally not told him Jace's name… it felt… like I would be doing something wrong, if I talked to Vegas about Jace. I must have let it slip last night. I watched him for a long moment and then shook my head, sitting back on the end of the bed. "No—he won't be home 'til… later. It's fine."

He ran a hand through his curls, serving only to fluff them out more. I kept waiting for him to reach over and turn the lights on, but he didn't, so we sat in the dark. "…I assumed that he worked nights, when you said he wouldn't be home at two a.m. but… if he won't be home until 'later'… That's a long time to be working."

I swallowed again, my throat so very dry. "…I'm not talking about him with you."

He nodded, slowly, and retrieved his glasses from the nightstand. "When's your first lecture, this morning? I'm sure you didn't get enough sleep."

I frowned. "I'm not… going back to sleep… here."

He sighed again, slipping out of bed and passing me on his way to the bathroom. "I'll be ready in ten minutes, and then I'll take you home." The door closed and I let my eyelids fall, my stomach churning. I wanted to correct him… to tell him to take me to my car… but the way my head was still spinning, I was fairly sure the alcohol hadn't completely cleared my system. Maybe I should take a cab, while he's in the bathroom…

I just didn't want him to see my home. It felt like I was cheating on Jace, even if I never saw Dr.—Vegas again, if I let him see our home. I would feel too guilty.

I sighed, opening my eyes and putting on the boot I still held in my hand before moving to the bedside and switching on the bedside lamp. I paced the room until he came out, turning to look at him and then quickly away when I realized he was clad only in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. I stared at the bedside table containing all the generic hotel necessities—beige phone, paper and pen with hotel name on them, old, digital alarm clock. I was willing to bet all the money I'd won from him the previous night that there was a Gideon bible and a phone book in the single drawer.

I tried not to listen as he pulled clothes from his suitcase and dressed in the little hallway by the door, but I couldn't help it—and then I was putting sounds in context and conjuring images to connect the two. He was slipping into pants, and they were fitted, by the sound of it… jeans, or fitted slacks. Then a shirt—I heard it slide over his shoulders, and then there was a long period of quiet in which I assumed he was buttoning it up. I heard him rustle in his bag again and then the bed closest to the bathroom—the one I'd slept in—creak as he sat down. I imagined him pulling socks—white sweat socks if he were in jeans, black dress socks if her were in slacks—over his bare feet.

This, of course, spurred a memory from the previous night. A little curly-headed boy in a greenhouse, his toes curling and uncurling in the dirt, while he read a book so large he could hardly hold it in his little hands. I glanced behind myself—black slacks and a light blue shirt with white stripes. I couldn't see his face, but I knew how bright his eyes would be if he turned to look at me.

"…I'm sorry for how I've been… this morning." He glanced at me in surprise and I turned away, disliking that even when I imagined his eyes ahead of time, they still made me catch my breath when he turned. "I just… didn't expect to wake up in this situation. …I didn't know how to act."

He was pulling shoes over his feet, but he still nodded. "I know. …I'm sorry that I made things… uncomfortable. I… was worried about leaving you alone, last night. When you said that Ja—he would be working late, I…"

"I know."

"…If you're ready, I can take you home."

I stood and turned to look at him. "Last night… If I weren't engaged… If I…"

"I know," he said softly, and I swallowed again. Apparently, nothing more needed to be said. I followed him out, into his car, and when we were both seated, gave him directions to get onto the interstate… it was a rather long drive.

"I, uh… I can call a cab, if you have to be somewhere soon. I live in Berkeley, not in San Francisco…"

"All my lectures start late today… I'll probably drop you off and then head back to sleep."

I glanced at him. "…You're pretty dressed up, for someone who wants to sleep."

He shrugged, signaling to turn onto the interstate. "I didn't bring a lot of extra clothing… I expected to be dressing up every day."

I leaned back, watching him out of the side of my eyes. "…Was that your real first kiss story?"

He chuckled. "It was. …What, you don't believe me?"

I shook my head. "It's not that…"

"What then?"

"It's just… a pretty brave thing for a middle school girl to do."

He blinked. "She wasn't in middle school."

I frowned. "You said… you played baseball in middle school and… the girl was a girl in your math class."

He grinned. "I was two years ahead of my grade in math. I took a bus to the high school every day for my math class."

"Oh." I watched him for a moment. "…So a girl… two years older than you… went to your baseball game and pushed you against the bleachers and stuck her tongue in your mouth?"

His ears were red again. "…I guess."

I laughed. "You were irresistible, even then."

He glanced at me out of the side of his eyes, a sly smile slipping over his lips. "You're doing a pretty good job resisting me…"

I smiled, shaking my head. "Does it seem that way to you?"

He laughed. "You told me to call you 'taken' last night, when I said you didn't have a nickname."

I snorted—I had forgotten that. "If I were resisting as much as I ought to… If I was doing nothing that would make me feel guilty… I would have stayed home last night."

"…Alone?"

I glanced at him. "He's working on his Masters, during the day… works at night. We have a honeymoon to pay for…"

He looked like he didn't like the news, but after a moment a polite expression crossed his face. "Oh? Where to?"

I looked at my knees. "We haven't decided yet. …I'd love to see Paris or go someplace exotic like… I don't know, Costa Rica. Go on the Sea Shepherd and… see the Galapagos… see what Darwin saw, you know? See the rainforest… But Jace has his heart set on Hawaii. We haven't really decided which yet…"

He glanced at me again—a strange, side-of-the-eye, meditative kind of look. "…How do you… not know… where you're going? I mean, if the wedding's this Saturday?"

"We're not going right after… He's got to finish his thesis and I haven't been at the lab long… I don't have much vacation time built up… two weeks, maybe, if I combined my sick leave and my vacation time. So, we're waiting… saving up…"

He nodded. "Well… The rainforest is beautiful. You'll love it. … I mean, if you go there. It… It's something every… scientist… should see, once in their lives."

My eyes lit up. "You've been to the rainforest?"

He grinned, turning off on an exit even though I hadn't directed him to do so. "I went in college. …Do you want some coffee?" I just looked at him in surprise, but without waiting for a response he steered us into drive-through. He rolled his window down as a tinny voice welcomed us and asked us what we would like.

"Can I get two large coffees… one black and one…" He turned to look at me.

"Sugar."

"And one with sugar please. And then…" He perused their menu, briefly. "Two peach muffins, please."

I frowned as he drove us forward, digging his wallet out of his back pocket with some difficulty. "…What if I don't like peach muffins?"

He did his side-of-the-eye glance again. "You told me last night that you loved Peach Muffins. Especially if they came with the sugar on top. …I happen to know for a fact that they make them like that, here."

He passed the young girl money while I narrowed my eyes, trying to remember telling him any such thing. I couldn't. He chuckled. "You told me a lot of things last night, Sara."

I blushed at that. I remembered telling him a lot, but something about his tone implied that I'd given more away than I wanted to. Within minutes we were driving again and Vegas was talking around bites of his muffin and drinks of his coffee, telling me about all the butterfly specimens he'd collected when he'd been in the rainforest, detailing specifically those which had not been endangered at the time he collected them, but were now—commenting both on how lucky he felt that he'd gotten the specimen at the time and on how he was torn, because he felt partly responsible for said endangerment.

I grinned, knowing full well that the massive deforestation of the rainforests were having a far greater impact that he could even if he spent his whole life down there trying to collect as many rare specimens as he could, but liking his concern all the same. …When I talked to Jace about animal rights and environmentalism and vegetarianism—I hadn't converted yet, but I'd been seriously considering it for months—he mostly got irritated that I was bringing it up _again_.

When he pulled up outside our apartment, I had the strangest urge to invite him up for a more substantial breakfast and more coffee, simply because I didn't want the conversation to end. …This was exactly the opposite of how I'd felt this morning. I swallowed, shaking my head, trying to get ahold of myself. I was acting so… out of character, and I didn't know what to do with it.

"Thanks… for the ride and… the coffee and the muffin and… and all the drinks last night and… for taking care of me."

He smiled softly. "I… I don't know if this is pushing things, but… Can I have your phone number or… an email… something to keep in contact with you? I mean… even if you marry this guy…" At my raised eyebrow, he smirked. "Okay… _when_ you marry this guy… It still couldn't hurt to have a professional reference, right? A friend who knows the business… who knows someone in all the major labs in the country…"

And I couldn't help it—I grinned. "…Sure. You got a pen and paper?"

He looked around his car, suddenly desperate, and came up with a pen but no paper. I chuckled and fished in my bra, pulling out the stack of bills I'd won from him the night before and choosing a hundred dollar bill. "If I give this to you… you can't ever give it away, you know. I don't want just anyone having this information."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, you're worth more than a hundred dollars I didn't think I'd ever see again…"

I chuckled, scrawling both my telephone number and email on the bill and passing it to him. "Thanks again… Vegas."

"Gil." He corrected me. "Call me Gil."

I got a strange sense of déjà vu at his words, but still smiled. "…Okay. Thanks again… Gil."

I slid out of the car and hurried up to our apartment, glancing back just once, right before I slid in the door, to see him still watching me from his rental car. I waved, uncertainly, and moved inside, closing the door behind me and sinking to the floor.

...What on earth was I doing?


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: :) Hope you guys enjoy... I'm starting the next chapter, but House is on tonight, so I don't guarantee that I'll have it up before tomorrow.

Thanks for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter Eleven:

I couldn't sleep, but I tried for an hour and a half before getting up, redressing, and heading to my lecture. I was early and it gave me too much time to look at the people in attendance. …I was hoping that Sara would come. I knew it was futile… and the push I'd felt just a day ago to make her consider me before she made a decision I believed she would always regret… was dwindling. Even when she was civil… when she wasn't fighting me… she adamantly said that she loved him. She flirted… and she reacted to me. She was attracted to me…

But that wasn't enough, and it never would be enough.

Not unless there was something deeper between us or something wrong between them… and Sara did not seem like the type of woman to leave a man simply because they were having some problems in bed. And… there couldn't be something deeper between us without pushing her to do something that she would never forgive herself for.

Had she not told me, straight out, that she didn't cheat? …It was something I respected, but it left me feeling hopeless. The lectures I gave the rest of the day were… lackluster, and I felt guilty that they probably didn't live up to their expectations, but I just… didn't feel right. I ate dinner alone, going over my lecture notes for the next day in the hotel's little restaurant, and retreated to my room to watch bad movie channels and hopefully fall asleep early.

The truth was I'd felt a migraine coming on for hours and if I could get to sleep before it got too bad, I might be able to head it off.

I turned the lights off, closing the heavy curtains to block out the light that was still shining brightly outside, and stripped into my boxers before crawling into the bed Sara had slept in. I had put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door this morning, so the pillow still smelled like her—the slight smell of her drinks, a stronger, fruity smell that I associated with her hair after dancing with her, and something else… warm and comforting.

Maybe this seems creepy… She had been clear that she did not intend for anything to happen between us. I should let it go, not curl up to her pillow and inhale her scent like it's as vital as oxygen… but something about her resonated with me so strongly… and after looking for her all day and still not seeing her… after the disappointment deep in my breast that I couldn't seem to shake… I was willing to take joy in small comforts.

I turned the TV on, watching an old western I was sure I'd seen when I was younger but couldn't now name, and was slipping into sleep before I was certain who the lead was.

It was hours later that I woke—there was no more light around the edges of the curtains, the room was darker, my migraine was gone… and there was something pounding against my door. I crawled out of bed, tripping over the shoes I had disregarded earlier in the evening and catching myself on the TV that was still on, the volume somehow having muted itself while I slept—no doubt I'd rolled over the remote—and hurrying blindly to the door.

I swung it open to find my Sara with tears in her eyes, and before I could register anything beyond how beautiful she looked, even sad, she had her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and as I wrapped my arms around her, the texture of the words on her sweatshirt—Berkeley—scratched against my chest. I realized with some surprise that I was in boxers and nothing else, and had apparently opened the door this way. She didn't seem to notice—or if she had, she clearly didn't mind.

I rubbed her back, guiding her further into the room, whispering soothing words into her ear, trying to calm her down enough to find out what had caused her unexpected appearance. She sat on the edge of the bed, dragging me down with her, and then she turned, her hot mouth falling over mine and her tongue slipping into mine. …And I did jump, just as she'd predicted in her drunken stupor the night before. It was with effort that I pulled back from her, tasting salt on my own lips from her tears.

I cradled her face in my hands, looking deeply into eyes that seemed to want to look anywhere but at me. "Sara… Honey, tell me what this is about. …I don't… I don't understand…"

"Jace!" She wailed, wiping frantically at her tears, mascara darkening the drops and leaving smears under those deep, beautiful, brown eyes. "He… was working, again, tonight… I went to bring him food… He was…"

She was sobbing now, still speaking, but her words by no means coherent. The only thing I took from it was 'fucking' which told me absolutely nothing. I held her against my chest, rocking gently, until they slowed a little, and then pulled back to look in her face. Her cheeks were red and blotchy, her eyes rid-rimmed and full of tears yet unshed. I never, ever wanted her to look like this.

"…He was what?"

She sniffled dramatically, wiping frantically at her eyes again. "He was… fucking some… blonde… on the hood of the car!"

My eyebrows shot up and I meant to offer some words of comfort… some reassurance, but she was kissing me again, small, warm hands running over my chest. I could feel her trying to tip me back onto the bed but I put a hand out to steady myself, pulling from her again.

"…Sara, stop. …You're not thinking clearly; you're upset."

Her eyes were wide when she pulled far enough back to meet mine. She swallowed. "…I told you… this morning… I told you that if I hadn't been engaged…"

"I know." I said, framing her face with my hands and brushing more tears away with my thumbs. "…But you were saying… if we'd met, while you were unattached. …Sara, you're going to regret this in the morning…"

She shook her head. "No. …I'm not. …He hasn't touched me in weeks, but he was… I just want to feel wanted. …Why don't you want me?"

My eyes searched her face frantically. I wanted her so badly. I shook my head. "Honey, I do. …I want you. …I just want you to choose it, when you're rational… I don't want to be… a rebound or… a way to get back at him for sleeping with someone else. …I can wait."

More tears fell. "…I can't. Please. …I just want to feel like… like I'm good enough. …Like I deserve you to look at me the way you have the past two nights. …Tell me you want me, Gil."

Her use of my name sent thrills down my spine. This time when she kissed me, I allowed her to push me back on the bed, slipping my hands into her hair. I figured that it couldn't hurt to kiss her a little—let her know that she was desired and desirable—and then stop this… hold her, calm her down… get her to sleep.

Sara had other ideas. She pulled from the kiss and by the time I'd opened my eyes, her sweatshirt was over her head and she had nothing underneath. Her skin seemed to glow in the darkness, smooth and soft and white, her small, rounded breasts puckering tightly in the open air. I stared at her in surprise for a long moment, and then she had pressed her chest back to mine and caught my mouth with hers.

Her tongue slid over my bottom lip and into my mouth, teasing my tongue and leaving me no choice but to participate, despite the drifting thoughts that there had been something I was going to do… something about stopping… Her hands grasped mine, pulling them up to her chest, and from the first time they made contact, her nipples hard against my palms, there was no looking back.

I rolled us over, moving my mouth to her chest and frantically unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her long, long legs. ...She wasn't wearing underwear either. I swallowed hard while she kicked her pants and sandals off quickly, pushing me back down to my back and tugging my boxers down slowly while my eyes traced up and down her body, focusing on the dark triangle between her thighs. I swallowed again, my head falling back to the pillow as her hands moved over me, the scent of her swirling all around me.

I drew her up over my body, penetrating her dark hair with my fingertips and stroking her a few times before dipping my fingers inside, my heart thudding desperately as she responded, moaning loudly and rocking against me. …She was already so wet. A second finger only increased her reaction, and within moments I was removing my hand, guiding her body over me, a mindless need coursing through me.

She smirked at me, her lips eternally teasing, despite the red around her eyes, as she pushed just the head of me inside her and then stopped. I groaned, arching up and trying to push her to stop teasing me… trying to slip inside her and feel her entirely. Had anyone ever felt this good, ever?

I gripped her hips and pulled her down roughly, relishing the guttural moan my actions tore from her lips. I kissed her again, roughly, wanting everything she had and more… wanting to feel all of her, in every way I could. I ran my hands over her body, stopping to lay attention over her breasts again as she slowly began rocking against me, my breath coming hot and heavy.

She sped up, and I tried to slow her down… I gripped her hips, I told her to stop, I tried to roll us to put myself in more control… nothing worked. She was rocking hard and fast and I was catapulting forward into a release far too soon… I told her no, I begged her to slow down before I lost it… and then I was coming and coming and it was amazing and yet it was horrible. She had been upset with Jace, before she found out he was cheating, because they had a problem in bed and I couldn't even hold out long enough to come with her, let alone after her…

My breathing was labored as I came down, my eyes closed. I didn't want to open them and see her disappointment. …I would have to make her come another way. This idea gripped me with renewed conviction and I snapped my eyes open, already moving to flip her onto her back… but she wasn't there.

I was wearing my boxers, wrapping in blankets, sticky and wet… and very much alone.

I let myself fall back onto my pillow, breathing heavy and taking in my surroundings—the Western was still playing, and though the light outside had dimmed, it was still present. …It had been a dream.

"Fuck!" I swore at the ceiling, my breathing still heavy, the bed vast and empty.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: I did it! :) ...Was anybody else disappointed with House tonight? Or are you all strictly CSI-watchers? :P

Also, I just thought I'd throw this out here, since I believe this site to be mostly women--www . cleavagechronicles . com-- A friend of mine's aunt is the lady doing it. I think she's thinking it will be a breast version of The Vagina Monologues, eventually... I'm not sure... So, if you have a breast story you would like to share for the sake of art and women's empowerment and all that good stuff... Yeah. :)

Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twelve:

I went to sleep. I curled into our bed, cried myself to sleep, and slept all day.

Around noon I dragged myself out of bed, feeling that I needed to conceal my activities from Jace even if I hadn't done anything wrong. I showered and brushed my teeth, forced myself to eat a little, and dressed like I'd spent the whole day listening to forensic scientists lecturing.

He'd said he would be home around three or four, but he came home at two thirty, grinning and tugging me to him tightly, laying a kiss on my lips. I closed my eyes and leaned into the affection, trying to disregard that it just didn't feel right. …I had an overactive sense of guilt, and it would do not good for me to admit that I _hadn't_ cheated.

"I didn't expect you to be home yet… You skip out early?" He teased me. I recited the lie I'd been playing in my head for the last two hours.

"Just the last lecture," I shrugged. "I thought I could catch you before you went to bed…"

He grinned and kissed me again. If I didn't think, it felt almost normal. "I'm glad I hurried and made it home early. …Listen, Sara… I'm sorry I've been gone so much. I spent the whole night thinking about what you said to me, last night, and you're right… We have time to save up for the honeymoon. I'll cut down on the work load for a while, okay?"

I couldn't help but smile, my heart fluttering at his words. There was a reason I was marrying this man. "…Thank you. You don't know how much it means to me."

"Yes, I do." He bent to kiss me again, letting it deepen this time, his tongue peeking into my mouth and then retreating. "…That's why I hurried to get home. I thought I could catch a few hours before you got home, because you mentioned how long it's been… and if my baby is frustrated, who am I to deny her?" He teased and I felt my face flushing. His teeth caught my ear and though I felt myself responding, goose bumps trailing down my arms, I frowned and pulled away.

"…Aren't you? Frustrated, I mean…?" At his questioning look, I tilted my head. "It's been just as long for you…"

He chuckled. "Sara, honey… I take care of business just about every morning in the shower, whether we've had sex recently or not."

"Oh." I frowned, wondering if that bothered me. I mean, not that I cared if he jacked off but… if that was why our long break wasn't affecting him the way it was me…

He laughed. "Honey, we've just been busy. I don't prefer my hand to you or anything like that. …Anyway… you're home early… I'm home early…"

He moved forward, pressing me between himself and the counter behind me, and I moaned softly. It had been too long… I let him lead us to our bedroom, his mouth moving over my neck and shoulders as we slowly slipped out of our clothing… but I was distracted. I kept… thinking.

I was thinking about him jacking off in the shower instead of sleeping with me and of Vegas sleeping in a separate bed. I was thinking of Jace working on cars all night while Vegas tried to teach me to play pool in order to get childhood stories out of me. I was thinking of Jace as a child, something I had seen innumerable times in the many, many photo albums his mother had, and I was thinking about Vegas as a dirty little boy in a greenhouse, listening to classical music and learning about bugs and looking up at his dad with shining admiration. I thought about Vegas getting pushed up against the bleachers by the girl two years older than him who knew what she wanted, and about Vegas sucking the life saver from my shirt, and about Vegas appearing in my mind when I was thinking about Jace, on the pool table.

When he pushed inside me, I hissed under my breath—I wasn't exactly ready for him, though this had never been a problem before… too much thinking. He moved slowly, feeling how tight I was but unaware of my discomfort—I was doing everything I could to hide it. How could I explain that I wasn't wet enough for him because I was thinking about another man as a child?

Eventually it eased… I forced myself to concentrate on what he was doing—the gentle way he stroked my hair and murmured his love to me, softly. Eventually, it felt good… but there was no way I was going to finish. …I briefly considered faking it, but I had no idea how to do such a thing… I mean, I could probably figure it out but… Instead, I urged him to go ahead.

"…What do you mean? …Honey, you… You said you were frustrated…"

"I know, but… I think I'm just tired, babe. I didn't sleep well, last night. …I really just wanted to feel close to you, more than anything."

He frowned, but at my insistence, proceeded to rock into me, moaning my name into the quiet of our bedroom as he finished within me… and when he rolled off me, tugging me close to cuddle but already half-asleep, it took everything I had in me not to cry.

"…Jace?"

"I'm sorry you didn't come, Sara…" He yawned. "…I could have gone longer."

I shook my head, watching the ceiling. "No… I know. I… Did I ever tell you about,,, getting my first bike?"

He yawned and rolled onto his stomach, kissing my shoulder before burying his face in the pillow. "I don't think so… What made you think of that?"

I shook my head again. "Nothing…"

He slid closer to me again, sliding an arm over my back. "…Sleep with me, honey. I have to work again tonight and I always miss sleeping with you."

The ceiling watched my silence and I dared it to condemn me… to judge me… more than I judged myself.

Once he was asleep, I slid out of his arms, hurrying to the shower to turn it on hot and slip in. I sat in the tub with the water falling down around me, my skin turning red from the heat, and tried to sort through all of this. …It wasn't that I was so upset I hadn't come. Jace wasn't the only one who could take care of himself… It was that… that our intimate moment had not been what it should have been. I had struggled to react to him… I had felt detached… and it wasn't his fault. He was sweet and understanding… he came home early to make amends for our fight the night before, even though I hadn't still been mad.

I was just so confused. I felt tears leak down my face and wiped at them stubbornly, despite my face being covered in water anyway.

…The fact of the matter was, yes, I was attracted to Vegas… but I loved Jace. I loved who he was and my doubts were just… distracting me. Making me over-think what I already knew to be true. So I would tell Vegas that I couldn't see him anymore, and I would marry Jace on Saturday and everything would fall into place, exactly as it ought to.

…Although, hadn't Ve—Dr. Grissom—said that… that it couldn't hurt to stay in contact, professionally? It really couldn't hurt to be able to get a recommendation from someone so well known… someone who knew criminalists around the country. …Once Jace finished his Masters, we were planning to send out applications… move wherever the best offer came from. Jace had been talking about New York, where his parents lived… they had a great Crime Lab. I wouldn't be sad to see San Francisco go…

And suddenly, I felt much calmer. Much less… confused. I stood, turned the water off, dried myself off, and slipped back into bed with my fiancé. …Hell, Dr. Grissom and I could even be friends, maybe… I would just have to explain the nature of the relationship… how things would have to be. …It would be nice to have someone to talk forensics with—even my friends from work didn't particularly enjoy the articles I was always excited to discuss.

I fell asleep, contented, thinking that I had overcomplicated everything unnecessarily. And when he slipped out of bed around ten, dressing for work, heating up leftovers, and kissing me good-bye… I couldn't go back to sleep. I'd slept all day. So I got up, wrapped myself in a robe, and padded out to the kitchen, making myself leftovers for supper as well and curling up on the couch to eat in front of the TV.

When my cell phone rang, from a number I didn't recognize… with an area code I didn't recognize… I swear I was just surprised. My heart was pounding because the noise had startled me—it was rather late to be receiving a phone call, after all. I stilled slightly shaking hands and flipped the phone open.

"…Hello?"

"Sara? …I didn't… wake you… did I?"

I shook my head, smiling softly. "No, I was up."

"Oh." He sounded nervous. I grinned.

"…Not planning on sleeping tonight either, Dr. Grissom?"

He paused before answering. "I… I'm stuck on the graveyard schedule, I guess. It's hard to sleep at night. …Listen, Sara… I've been thinking."

"…Okay?" My heart was hammering in my chest again. But, I mean… Whose heart doesn't hammer when they hear phrases like 'I've been thinking' and 'We need to talk'? It's… conditioned. Meaningless.

"…Maybe… we should just be friends."

I frowned. "…We're not anything more than friends, right now." I mentally cringed. Not 'right now'. We weren't more than friends, period.

"No, I know. …I… I know that. …What I'm trying to say is… I think I've been wrong, trying to… pursue you, the way I have. I… If he's not right for you, you won't marry him, and if he is, you will. And… I just complicate that. …Even if something happened between us, right now…even if you and Jace broke up, right now… it wouldn't be right. …We hardly know each other."

I wasn't sure where this was going, but I knew that it was… upsetting. "…Okay."

He sighed at that. "I'm just… saying that… If something happened, between us… We're acquaintances, more than anything. It… I wouldn't know if… if I was just a rebound or… a placeholder, for him… and you wouldn't know if I actually wanted you, or if I wanted the idea of you. …We need to get to know one another, whether or not you marry Jace."

I swallowed, shaking my head. "I… I'm going to marry him, Dr. Grissom. It's not an 'if'…"

"Gil." He corrected, for the second time.

I swallowed. "Gil," I agreed. He sighed.

"So then… I guess there's nothing to talk about. We'll just… be friends."

I nodded, feeling that this was the best possible outcome and willing my face to smile rather than frown. "…I'd like that."

"Good." He cleared his throat and I heard shuffling. "Well… I guess… I'll let you… get back to… whatever you were doing. …Will I see you, tomorrow?" He cleared his throat again. "At… at any of my lectures, I mean…?"

I couldn't help but smile at his obvious nervousness. "Yeah… You will."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: It's a little short... but I have to be at work in five minutes... and it's a three minutes drive. :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Thirteen:

I didn't go back to sleep. Instead, I paced the hotel room endlessly, uncertain, and wanting more than anything to avoid a dream like that again.

I had called Sara and asked me be friends, because my dream was haunting me. If they broke up before the wedding, something I had a hard time believing they wouldn't do, I couldn't… handle… having her once to bury her grief and never having her again. …I couldn't handle her sleeping with me because she wasn't sure about him, and then deciding, after running from my bed, that she was now certain about him. …I knew that my stipulations might make her more likely to marry the man…

It was just a consequence I had to accept. Because the dream was honestly haunting me. Images flitted through my mind endlessly—Sara crying, Sara saying she just wanted to feel wanted… Sara making me come without her. It felt… empty. Sad and lonely and empty, and I thought that I would rather never have her than have her in that way.

I still felt slightly nauseous the next morning and skipped breakfast, filling a travel cup with coffee and heading to give my lectures, struggling to be more awake and more dynamic than the day before because Sara had said she'd been in one of my lectures today. And she was… I didn't see her until the end of the first one. She'd been sitting in the back, her hair back in a ponytail, dressed all in black. It was no wonder she blended in. But she came down the steps of the lecture bowl towards me at the end, a hesitant smile on her face.

I lifted my eyes to her, trying to look only moderately interested in her presence there. The smile she flashed me made my heart thud in my chest and my mouth go dry. …It really wasn't fair, that she could do that to me. I drew in a deep breath. "What'd you think?"

Her smile widened. "Good. …You seem a little tired though. I… seem to have come into a small fortune, recently…" She said, teasing me about the money she'd won off me, the curve of her lips delicious. "…I could treat you to a friendly breakfast?"

I frowned. "…I have another lecture starting in about ten minutes…"

"Brunch then…"

I couldn't help but smile, even though I felt like I should probably say no. But then, hadn't I said we ought to get to know each other? …Wasn't that the whole reason I'd gone with the Let's-just-be-friends bullshit? "…You free in an hour?"

She grinned. "Well, I have a lecture in about ten minutes with this boring entomologist… but after that, I've got about two hours free."

I laughed. "I hear the entomologist is pretty sexy… You sure you don't have to stay after class with him?"

She blushed, but still laughed. "I'm sure. …I'll see you in a bit." She said, as people started trailing in. I tried not to watch her, in the intervening moments before my next lecture started, but I couldn't help it… not really. She paged through a notebook apparently full of notes and I wondered if they were from the lecture I'd just given and what she'd thought. …I thought she looked as tired as I felt, but she definitely had more color in her cheeks.

…She seemed happy. Maybe I had been right, last night, when I told her that I was just complicating things for her and Jace. She seemed like this whole… friends thing really agreed with her.

I swallowed back my distaste, wondering for the hundredth time if that hadn't been a mistake. Had I completely lost her by backing off? Sure, we'd grab brunch… we'd talk… but in the end, she'd go home to him and I would what? I couldn't even push boundaries anymore because I'd claimed I'd wanted to be "friends." Fuck.

I gave the next lecture, trying to not seem "tired" this time around, and was positively excited when it ended and my audience began filing out. We walked to my car and she directed me a diner nearby where we promptly sat down and ordered—and Sara, apparently, could eat. She ordered one of those twelve meals… four pancakes, three eggs, hash browns, and three sausage links, and a muffin.

I laughed and ordered the same, though I was certain I wouldn't finish.

"So," she prompted me once our waitress had taken our orders and disappeared. "…Tell me something I don't know about you yet." I raised an eyebrow and she laughed. "You said you wanted us to get to know each other, as friends. Tell me something I don't know."

I couldn't help but smile. …Maybe this wasn't over yet. "…I'm a poker-player. When I was at UCLA, I used to drive to Vegas to win money for… fetal pigs… cadavers…"

To my great surprise, her eyes lit up. "Wow! You could have had your own mini-body farm! …I'm not so good at poker. Honestly, I'm not even sure I know the right rules."

I frowned. "…How do you not know?"

She blushed. "I… The people who taught me… we were playing strip poker. …I'm pretty sure they weren't exactly honest."

I grinned. "When was this? How old were you?"

She laughed. "Thirteen or fourteen, I think. …Young enough to think the older boys were being nice to me by letting me play."

I laughed too. "So… what happened?"

She shook her head. "Nothing… a few hands in I realized they were playing me and stormed off."

"How much had you taken off?"

"Not much… socks, pants, bra…"

"Not shirt?"

She shook her head. "No… by that time I was on to them. The last hand was proving my theory. So I walked away in panties and a t-shirt. My fo—uh… mom… caught me and thought I'd been out having sex."

I raised my eyebrows. "Did you get in trouble?"

"Grounded for a week." She replied in a tone that almost sounded like she was bragging. The waitress slid our food in front of us and she picked up her fork happily, her eyes scanning her selection with pure excitement.

"But you weren't… couldn't you have just said you got tricked?"

"And be a tattle-tale? Not an option." She decided on her pancakes and went about buttering and stacking them. "Besides… it totally upped my cool-factor to be able to say I'd been grounded for having sex."

"…Wouldn't it have been easier to just have sex?"

She snorted. "Yeah… at fourteen, it would be easier to have sex than to lie about having sex. Diseases, no availability of contraceptives, and nowhere near the emotional maturity required for such an act…" Her eyes flickered to me as she poured a generous dollop of syrup over her pancakes. "…Why? Were _you_ having sex at fourteen?"

I laughed. "No, …No, I was not."

She tilted her head, cutting herself a forkful. "When did you…? First have sex, I mean?" She took the bite and then licked syrup off her lips. I watched her tongue, gritting my teeth.

"I… think if you want that kind of personal information, you'll have to do better than 'brunch'."

She grinned, now running her tongue over a drop of syrup still on her fork. "I think that can be arranged…"

I looked away and swallowed. Was she doing this on purpose, or did she really have no idea what that did to me?


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Hope this satisfies those of you begging for another update. :) Sorry to New Beginnings readers... new stories almost always beat older ones when I'm deciding which to update. ...I just get so excited!

Let me know what you think!

* * *

Chapter Fourteen:

We were walking from Dr. Grissom's car back to the lecture hall when the subject we'd abandoned in favor of eating while I questioned him on the finer aspects of timeline regression from his last lecture came up again. Well, okay… I brought it up again.

"So… you said I'd have to do better than brunch to find out about your first time… What would it take, exactly?"

He smirked, and it was with effort that I disregarded the fluttering in my chest. I just… I had to keep reminding myself that no matter how our relationship had started, we were just going to be friends, now. "Well… maybe dinner and… your story? …Though, I s'pose you'll be eating with Jace tonight…?"

I nodded. "He said he's going to try to be home more… I kinda got upset the other day about him working so much."

A pained look crossed his face but in an instant it was gone and he was clearing his throat. "So… romantic dinner planned then? …He going to cook for you?"

I tilted my head. It didn't seem like he meant anything by the comment, but I was used to his snide remarks about Jace. I wrote it off—there was nothing in his tone to suggest he was being that way now. "I hope not." At his quirked eyebrow, I laughed. "He's not so good in the kitchen. I mean… he tries. He really does. But…" I chuckled and he smiled softly.

"But?" He prompted.

I shook my head. "He burns Hamburger Helper. …Any romantic meal is made by me."

He glanced at me and smiled softly, watching the cement beneath our feet as we walked. "…Well, maybe… on the next night he's working… If I'm still in town… we can grab something to eat." It was Monday… I was getting married on Saturday. There were four free nights left before the rehearsal dinner on Friday night, and chances were Jace would work at least one of them.

"That would be fun." I said, smiling over at him as we moved back into the lecture hall. He smiled too, moving up to the podium as I took a seat, awaiting his next lecture. When he was finished, I waved briefly as I moved out, thinking that I should see someone else speak at least once during the conference, though I missed him almost as soon as I left.

I didn't see him after that, but hurried home to Jace, thinking that although the dinner we'd planned had just been dinner, not a 'romantic' dinner, that it would be rather nice to make it romantic. I went about making a homemade sauce and cooking pasta, and by the time he'd woken up and gotten out of the shower—which caused me to look at him for signs of being… gratified—I was setting out plates and opening a bottle of wine. He'd promised that he wouldn't be working tonight, so it wouldn't be a problem.

…And a little wine might be just the thing to get me to stop thinking so much and just let the romance of the moment lead where it could.

His hands snaked around my hips, his mouth moving along my neck and sending shivers down my spine. "…How were your lectures today?"

I smiled, leaning back against him. "Good. Did you know that different temperature conditions can affect the insect timeline regression by up to a—"

"Honey… I was asking to be nice. …Honestly, the thought of bugs on bodies really makes me feel kind of nauseous…" I frowned and he did too. "I'm sorry, honey. I care… I just… was hoping you'd tell me how you enjoyed it without the appetite-spoiling details."

I chuckled, despite not necessarily finding his comment all that amusing. "…I used to hate hearing about your cars, until you taught me how to take one apart… Maybe you could learn to find my work interesting too…"

He rolled his eyes, kissing my cheek and moving away from me to pour the wine into the two glasses set out. "You didn't have me teach you because you were trying to become involved in my interests—you needed to know how to do it for your job."

I frowned. Oh yeah. Somehow I had forgotten that detail. He grinned and passed me a wine glass. "Really. I want to hear about your day. How is… what's-his-face? That Dr. Griswold you were so excited to hear speak? Is he living up to his reputation?"

"Grissom," I corrected, smiling. I couldn't help but smile when I thought of him. "Yeah, actually… I've been stopped after lectures, when I have time, to ask further questions… I gave him my email and phone number. He says he knows people in most of the major crime labs in the country. I figure if you're the one who gets offered a job first, a recommendation from the famous Dr. Grissom could get me a job at the lab in that city pretty easily…"

He raised his eyebrows, grinning. "That's great! …He seems like a pretty nice guy, then." His voice seemed speculative. Non-committal in what emotion it was expressing… like it was waiting on a cue.

I shrugged absently, focusing on draining the pasta. "He is, I guess. I mean, I hardly know the man, but he seemed… helpful. He could give me someone to talk 'bugs and bodies' with." I teased, and his face relaxed. He took a drink of wine.

"Well good. It'll spare me some of the nausea. …Will he be in town on Saturday?"

I raised an eyebrow. "I guess I have no idea. The conference is over on Friday… lots of people leave on Thursday because there isn't much to do on the last day… Why?"

He shrugged, stealing a black olive from the salad I'd made earlier and popping it into his mouth. "No reason… just thought, you know, if he's helping us so much with your career, it couldn't hurt to invite him to the wedding. …Especially if you think you're going to maintain some kind of acquaintance with him. …I mean, right? Isn't that… polite?"

I worked to maintain the indifferent expression. "…I guess I don't know, exactly, what the proper etiquette for inviting near-strangers who have offered you help you professionally to your wedding… I doubt we'd even have room, anyway. The guest list was pretty full…"

"My second-cousin Margaret and her husband cancelled last week, remember? His mother's in the hospital… Anyway, we've got two spare seats… meals… Why not? I mean, it couldn't hurt, could it? …Tell him to bring a date."

He took another olive and moved into the dining room again to refill his wine glass. I frowned into the pasta and followed behind him, wondering what I'd gotten myself in to.

Dinner was good, and Jace was amazing… he put in a CD he'd made me when we first started dating, of old love songs—Unchained Melody by the Righteous Brothers and Elvis singing Can't Help Falling In Love With You… among others. He pulled the plates I'd been taking to the kitchen to clean out of my hands, replaced them on the table, and pulled me into the living room and into his arms.

I smiled softly, kissing him and holding him tightly, swaying with him and letting him guide us slowly in a circle, his lips dipping to my neck and my shoulder and my cheeks every few seconds, as if he just couldn't keep them away for longer than that. I tilted my head up and his kiss was burning—devouring—sending a deep, liquid kind of longing slipping through me, shoulders to chest to lower abdomen and straight down to my toes. I moaned softly into him and he stopped turning us, guiding us instead back towards the bedroom.

I walked backwards, wrapped up in his kiss and thinking, thankfully, only of him. I could already feel my body reacting to him, promising that this time around would be a lot more satisfying… when his pocket vibrated. I ignored it, expecting him to do the same, slipping my hands from around his neck to start tugging on his shirt.

He, apparently, viewed me moving my hands as me separating from him so he could answer his damned phone. And he did.

"Hello?"

I frowned, taking another step back and trying desperately not to let myself over think this again.

"No, I told you I couldn't work tonight…"

It was Al. I sighed. I was irritated, but he had told him no, and that was what mattered.

"…No, not even if you pay me double."

That was the man I'd fallen in love with. The man who didn't put anything above me…

"…You would honestly do that?"

Wait. …This seemed wrong. His face looked wrong. He was wavering. I stepped forward, putting myself back in close proximity, trying to remind him why he was telling Al no.

"I… I can't…"

I sighed in relief.

"No, I… I know they're your most important customers, Al, but…"

I frowned. Jace looked… troubled now. Not wavering under pressure, but like he felt guilty. …Al had come to be a good friend of his, and he had gone out of his way to make sure Jace could keep working there in an unconventional capacity when writing his Thesis had made it almost impossible. …If it was that important…

"Honey?" He glanced at me, still frowning. I did my best to smile like it didn't matter. "Go ahead. Al needs you."

The frown deepened. He mouthed, "Are you sure?" and I nodded.

He moved into the bedroom alone, telling Al he'd be in in a half hour, already pulling out his grease-stained work jeans. I sighed, moving to clean up the dishes, making a point to keep some semblance of a smile on my face. I had told him to go and I had no right, now, to make him feel guilty for listening.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews! They make me smile!

* * *

Chapter Fifteen:

I felt guilty for not being upfront with Jace about Ve—Dr. Grissom. Really, I did. I didn't like lying to him, but I didn't see any way around it. If I had cheated, I could confess to that and beg forgiveness… but I hadn't. How do you confess to spending time and flirting but remaining faithful?

Okay, maybe it's easier than I'm making it sound, but with the wedding a week away and seriously, no harm done, I didn't want to have that fight.

…But after Jace left, I was… lonely. And bored. And all I could think about was wanting to call someone and do something and…

I called him, and then I hung up. No. No, I would go to bed and sleep so that I could enjoy his lectures in the morning, maybe we'd grab another meal, and then I would come home to Jace who would no doubt have to work again, so then I could see him for dinner. See? That was more than enough friend-time. I didn't need to call him. So I wouldn't.

My phone rang, and though I closed my eyes in disbelief, my heart was leaping in my breast.

"Hello?"

"…Did you just call me?"

I sighed. This was another one of those 'How do you explain this?' situations. Oh, yeah, I did, _I wanted to see you but I felt guilty for it because logically I know I'm only reaching out to you to make up for my dissatisfaction with my relationship. _Yeah, that would go over real well.

"…My butt did." I cringed. The phrase that brought no questions from my friends was probably not a universal concept.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh… I… My phone was on the couch. I sat on it, my mistake, and it was calling you, so I hung it up."

"Oh."

"…Yeah."

There was a slight pause. "…Aren't you supposed to be having a romantic dinner?"

I swallowed. "I am. …Yes, I am. So… I'll just… let you go and… get to it."

"Sara."

"Hmm?"

"He's not there… You don't have to lie to me."

"…What?"

"There's no sound of cooking in the background and it's a little late to be eating now anyway… and you wouldn't have been sitting on the couch after a romantic meal, unless you guys just couldn't make it to the bedroom… in which case, you wouldn't have answered when I called back. …Or at least you wouldn't have sat and talked to me. You would have explained the mistake and then made some excuse to get off. …Especially since it's me. …You wouldn't sit on the phone with me with him right there."

I sat with my mouth open, uncertain how to respond, but he just sighed softly.

"What happened?"

"…Work."

I expected him to criticize Jace for once again working, but he didn't. "…It can be hard, having a job where you could get called in at any time. So what are you doing with your evening alone?"

I laughed. "Washing dishes… I'll probably finish off the wine and fall asleep."

He laughed. "Well, okay… I was going to suggest getting some ice cream and maybe a walk on the pier, but… hey, if you've got the night planned out, far be it from me to interfere."

I smiled. "…I probably shouldn't drive…" I'd had three glasses thus far, though a full one sat before me on the coffee table.

"I'll pick you up then. …See you in… half an hour." He hung up, leaving me stunned.

…Stunned, but very happy.

I brushed my teeth, thinking of the garlic from my sauce, changed clothes—I was still in the black slacks and black blouse I'd worn to the conference and it was no longer comfortable—and cleaned up the house a little because I knew I wouldn't want to do it when I got home. I heard his car pull up and grabbed my keys and purse before he could get out of the car—I didn't want him inside. …No, that wasn't necessarily true anymore. I would feel strange with him inside, and I would worry about him leaving some clue he'd been here. I locked my door and hurried down, sliding into his passenger seat with a grin.

"Hi."

"Hey… I'm sorry you're stuck with me. I know you were excited for the… romantic dinner."

I gave him a half smile. I had been excited for it. "…I'm not 'stuck' with you. I would have been stuck at home, but… this is a good second choice." I frowned as he cringed. I didn't mean to call him my second choice, but… Well, he was, wasn't he? …Wasn't he?

He swallowed. "So… ice cream close by?"

I directed him to an ice cream shop on the pier because he had suggested said walk, and we moved from his car onto the wooden planks together. I glanced at him. "…So this isn't dinner. Am I right to guess you still won't tell me?"

He grinned. "You are. …I guess I could be persuaded to tell you something lesser, however, for reciprocation…"

We stepped up to the window and the teenage boy greeted us. "Hi. What can I get for you?"

He considered for a moment. "…A cookie-dough waffle cone, please. Two scoops." The teenager nodded and looked at me.

"…One scoop of chocolate and one scoop of strawberry, in a waffle cone… Thanks." He nodded and rung it up, telling Dr. Grissom the total and then moving to make said cones. He pulled out money but I stopped him, retrieving the money I'd won from him.

"I hustled you… I can buy us ice cream."

"You paid for brunch too."

"…With your money. And if we get dinner, I'll still be paying with your money…"

He frowned but allowed me to pay the teenager who passed us our cones and handed me my change. I frowned as we walked away and he nudged me. "…What?"

I wrinkled my nose up. "He didn't wash his hands between touching the register, touching the cones and the ice cream scoops, and then touching the money and the register again. …Currency is disgusting, the way it changes hands… Ugh. Those germs obviously get all over the register, and then get spread to the cones and the scoops which sit in the buckets of ice cream…"

He looked at his ice cream in distaste, but I liked mine with a shrug of the shoulders. He laughed. "So it's gross, but not enough to deter you?"

I smiled. "My brother convinced me to eat dirt and bugs when I was three… I think I'll be okay."

He laughed then, her whole head falling forwards with it. "…Isn't three a little old to fall for that?"

My eyes were wide with indignation. "No! …He made a mud-pie and he told me it was chocolate… there were dead grasshoppers in it! …I cried for like an hour after I took a bite and he fell over laughing…"

He laughed again. "I'm sorry… it's not funny that you were so upset, but… No, it's all pretty funny!"

I smacked his arm but his grin remained fixed in place. I scowled. "You'd probably eat them willingly, that's why you think this is humorous…"

"Actually, I would. I love chocolate-covered grasshoppers… fried ants…" I shuddered and he laughed again. "Yeah, my mom doesn't like them either… When I was in college, if I brought any home with me and ate them in front of her… She would get so mad at me. I can't tell you how many boxes she threw away…"

"Good." I said, feeling that Mrs. Grissom was very much justified in this action. My spite only made him smile brighter.

"So…this wedding on Saturday. Inside, outside? Catholic, protestant, jewish?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Inside… He's, uh… he's not very religious, but his family is and… and it's the church he grew up in, so…"

"Are you religious?"

I snorted. "I'm a… border line atheist. I don't necessarily believe there's nothing… but I'm not convinced there's someone up there either. …I feel like people just needed someone they could blame… some way to explain things."

"…Or maybe a way to forgive themselves…?" He suggested, and I tilted my head, thinking.

"…In a new-testament sense that works… I'm not so sure about the old. There's not as much talk of forgiveness…"

"…So why are you getting married in a church you don't believe in?"

I hummed softly, taking a large lick of ice cream to buy me some time. "I… I wasn't like most little girls. I didn't dream about the perfect wedding. I mean, I liked fairy tales and all that but… by the time I was old enough to really think about anything beyond the whole fairytale idea, I…" I stopped, hesitating, but he nudged me gently again.

"…You… what?"

I glanced off to the side, "…I had decided I didn't want to get married." I glanced at him, taking in his surprised expression, and looked back to the side. "So, anyway… when it came to picking a place to have it… Really, as long as it was somewhere meaningful to him… that was what mattered, to me."

"…What made you change your mind?"

"Hmm?" I asked, though I knew exactly what he was asking.

"About marriage. …Why do you believe in it now but you didn't when you were… what? Eight or nine?"

I shrugged. "I leaned that… that marriage doesn't fall into two categories—fairy tales, which any self-respecting nine-year old doesn't believe in anymore, or lifetime television dramas. …With age comes… the realization of a middle ground."

He frowned, and I knew he was thinking about what I'd said. For some reason, I found it rather harder to lie to him than I did to Jace. …But then, I had told Dr. Grissom a lot about myself that I hadn't told Jace… "What about you? …How come you never got married?"

His head snapped up, taking him out of his thoughts for a moment. "…Oh. …I guess I just… got caught up in my career… never found the right girl… I told you about playing poker in Vegas to pay for fetal pigs and cadavers… There was a girl, at the time, who I… I thought she could have been the one, you know? But… I was spending everything I made between my job and my card games on experiments… It was more important than her, even though I thought I loved her…" He shrugged. "…Just not the right girl, I guess."

I gave a worried sort of half-smile to my shoes and kept walking.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews. I'm interested to see what you guys will say about this chapter... :)

Also, I don't know how to play chess. So please forgive, as with pool, the poor descriptions herein.

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Chapter Sixteen:

I felt bad for her. She had clearly been looking forward to a night with her fiancé… and as much as I didn't want to encourage anything of the sort, I wanted her to feel better. By the sound of it, she didn't spend a lot of time with him… so she must have been looking forward to tonight. …I couldn't stand to listen to how melancholy she sounded, though she tried to hide it.

Walking along the pier, waffle cones long since finished and our hands hanging awkwardly at our sides, I tried to steer her out of that sad mood. Even if I felt like she was closer to wanting me when she was sad… I couldn't stand to see her sad. It was positively… heart-wrenching. I wanted to reach out and take her hand… our fingers had accidently brushed several times and my hand was tingling with want for the connection. I thought about suggesting we move down to walk on the beach, but I disregarded that idea.

The chess boards we passed gave me an excuse to stop our walking—I asked if she could play and suggested a game. She grinned. "…We'll probably have to raid several boards to find all the pieces…" So we did, finally gathering all the appropriate pieces and setting them up on the game board. She was white, and made the first move, without hesitation. I smiled. "…Either you're impulsive, or you already have a strategy in mind…"

"Both." She replied with some smugness. I glanced at her, and then back at the pieces.

"So… We're friends now, right?"

"…Right." She said, a little hesitantly.

"…Tell me about Jace." I moved a pawn forward. She quirked a smile.

"…Is this a strategy? Distract me so I'll make a mistake?" Her eyes sliding across the board were quick and sure, playing out possible scenarios already. Again, she made her next move much faster than me. She _was_ impulsive.

"Nooo," I said, dragging out the word while I scanned the board before us. "I really want to know. He's a lucky man. I want to know… how you met, why you fell in love with him, who he is…"

She bit her bottom lip while I continued to consider. "…Okay. He's…a lot like me, I guess. We met a few weeks after I moved here—"

"From where?" I interjected, making my move. She blinked, glancing at it and then back at me.

"I got my undergrad in Boston." She paused, tilting her head while she looked at the board. "Anyway…I actually broke down on the interstate. My car should not have been trusted with a cross-country trek. He was the only person who stopped for me…"

She moved. "He got the car working enough to get me home, and followed me to make sure I made it, but told me it wouldn't last very long and that I couldn't take it up to those speeds again. …Well, in a city like this, that basically means getting a new car. He put me in contact with some people who'd be willing to buy my car for parts—they gave me more than the dealership offered me—and when I turned him down for a dinner invitation, offered to help me find a used car that wasn't a piece of shit…"

I moved. "…Why did you turn him down, at first?"

"…Fear." She moved. God, she was fast.

"…How do you mean?" I kept my eyes on the board, sensing that she was more likely to answer honestly without my eyes on her.

"I… grew up in a poor family. I worked my ass off in high school so I could go to Harvard at sixteen. …I didn't want to fall in love with a mechanic. …People get stupid when they let their emotions take control, and I often don't have as much control over mine as I'd like. I thought… avoiding him… was the best-case solution."

I moved. "But you said he's getting his Master's… in what?"

"Microeconomics, actually… I judged him prematurely." She moved. "He's older than me… had to work to pay for school. He was smart enough for scholarships but he got into a lot of trouble in high school, so he had that against him…"

I watched her. She spoke with genuine affection and admiration for the man, but… her eyes didn't light up the way my mom's still did, every time she talked about my dad. …I took that as a good sign. Or, you know, maybe a bad sign. I mean, I wanted her to give us a chance, but… If she wasn't going to, either way, maybe it would be better if she was making that choice because she really loved him that much.

"…Have I stumped you?" She questioned and with some surprise I turned back to her and the board.

"No, I'm sorry… lost in thought." I moved and she frowned. Apparently she had believed she'd trapped me. "So… you two have similar backgrounds which makes you feel like kindred spirits…you like older men and what man wouldn't find you attractive…you're both smart, attending the same schools… You need someone to take you car shopping and show you around the city and help move furniture and… the rest is history?"

"No." She moved. "I grew up in a suburb of San Francisco. I knew the area, I hired movers, and I was fully capable of purchasing a car on my own."

"…Then what?" I moved, thinking this time that I had her cornered. I was playing out possible scenarios for her to escape when her words distracted me. …Well, no. Less her words—more her tone of voice. She was speaking quietly, her voice tight, her eyes on the board but her hands in her lap for the first time since we'd sat down.

"I… was attacked. On campus. I hadn't yet replaced my car and it wouldn't start after a night class. I walked to a pay phone, calling him and asking if he couldn't try to fix it for me… We were tentatively friends, despite me turning him down. He lived close to campus, said he'd been there in ten minutes… I walked back to my car and sat inside it with the doors locked. But when I saw someone coming… I thought it was him. I got out and he stopped in the trees, rather than coming into the parking lot, so I went to him, thinking something might be wrong. Within seconds I was on the ground, struggling to keep my clothes from being torn off, and… losing. …If Jace hadn't… if he'd waited an extra two minutes to leave the house…"

She shook her head, and it pained me to hear her voice so pained and brittle. She swallowed, lifting a hand to the board and making the final move. "Checkmate."

I swallowed, uncertain about her story… uncertain how she'd beaten me… uncertain what this new information meant about her and about their relationship and what it would mean for ours. I had nothing to say… didn't know what to say. She gave me a lackluster smile. "…I think I'm ready to go home now, Dr. Grissom. Thank you for spending the evening with me… I didn't want to be alone." She stood up, and I sighed, nodding and standing as well.

Belatedly, half-way to the car, I realized she'd gone back to calling me 'Dr. Grissom.' "Gil." I corrected for a third time. This time she didn't even humor me by repeating and agreeing. She gave me another wan smile and looked away, hurrying to my car and sliding inside before I could even reach my door.

I drove her home and once again she slipped out without letting me walk her to the door. She waved and mouthed a 'Thank You' in my direction and I watched her head inside and close the door before driving away, her revelation making me wary about her being alone all night even though such a thing hadn't occurred to me before now.

It was another night in which I got very little sleep, mentally ticking a day off in my mind. She would marry him in five days. In five days, any chance I had to make her mine would disappear. …And there really was nothing I could do about it. I'd put myself out there and been honest about my attraction… about the depth of the connection I felt we had… she knew, and so far, was still insistent that she would marry the man. Maybe that was the end of the story. Take an early flight out once my lectures were done, go home to my townhouse and my insects and my reliable job which I had always loved… and let it go.

Sometimes that was necessary. …The best course of action. Because if she had made up her mind… or even if she hadn't, but she still intended to marry him… that was it. I wasn't going to keep pursuing a married woman. It wasn't like me to pursue an engaged one. I had pushed this as far as it would go and… we had a ticking clock.

It was all up to Sara.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Okay, so this will be the last chapter until... tomorrow night. I have a big test tomorrow, so I'll be studying in my free moments. :) So, I hope you enjoy it and that it can tide you over until then.

Don't read this if you are unspoiled for tonight's episode--------Okay, so... Once again, I need to vent. One--Poor Henry. Two--Am I the only one who actually liked Hodges back when he was hanging on Grissom's every word and who hates him now that he seems to constantly be in the field for no real reason? Three--I really, really liked the parallels in this episode to the episode 'Lab Rats' and the song etc. that tied the two together... and I really, really liked David getting to have some face-time. I love David. He's so sweet. Four--The kiss... I don't even know why it bothers me, because I don't like or dislike the whole 'Wedges' ship and, in general, always support love. I didn't care about Vartann, but when we first heard about him and Catherine, I was excited. ...But for some reason, it just seems so implausible. Why now, why in the lab, and why... that way? It just... didn't feel right. Ugh! ...David's part though was quite redeeming. And Brass. He's always so funny, even when he's not trying to be.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews. Please give me more--it'll be so nice to walk out of my test and be able to sit down to them. :)

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Chapter Seventeen:

I don't know why I told him that. …I was seeking to justify my relationship with Jace… seeking for him to understand that I hadn't just fallen for the first guy to save me on the side of the highway, never met anyone else in town, and built a life around someone who was safe and easy. …I wanted him to see that… that there was more to my relationship with Jace than what he saw—the working all night and the referenced but not explained problem in bed.

I crawled into bed as soon as I had gotten home, and when Jace came in around three, crawling into bed and tugging me close to him, I still hadn't fallen asleep. …And I felt guilty, having him hold me, after I'd spent the night with Dr. Grissom. I hadn't done anything wrong, but I wasn't convinced that I'd done anything right, either. After everything Jace had done for me, he didn't deserve this…

He fell asleep and I pulled away from him, rolling so my back was to him, taking care to draw in measured breaths and try to calm myself down. All of Dr. Grissom's questions were swirling through my mind now, leaving me uncertain… making me question. Why were we getting married in a church? I mean, it wasn't a big deal to get married somewhere that was meaningful to him… but had we ever talked about having it somewhere else?

Now that I had disregarded both the fairytale concept and my disbelief in the institution of marriage altogether… if I had to plan a wedding with only and exactly what I wanted… what would I choose? …What would thirteen-year-old Sara Sidle have envisioned for that most monumental of days?

I had an acute sense of guilt, apparently. Every time I tried to envision it, I would feel a tightening in my chest and the vision of the church came back, my mind rationalizing, going over all the positives of the choices that had been made. It took a monumental effort and no shortage of silent tears to force that feeling down and confront myself honestly…

I would want a wedding on the beach. It wouldn't matter what time of day—early morning, with a cool breeze, the air fresh and brisk and salty, seagulls swooping—mid-afternoon, the sun hot and bright and filling everything with light, the sound of laughter from children playing in the waves drifting over us—evening, with the sun setting against the ocean, a few stars beginning to peak out behind us, gentle candlelight framing the aisle…

Oh, I liked that one. …My hair down, with flowers, and a very simple dress, that would blow in the wind. …I would walk to him barefoot.

I tried so hard to see Jace at the end of that aisle. …I saw him at the end of the church aisle easily, but framed against the waves, waiting for me…

I closed my eyes, trying to stop the tears that were shaking me now… trying to still myself, because I would wake him up and have to explain.

I was too late—he was attuned to my movements, and recognized how upset I was while hardly awake. He rolled over until his chest was tight to my back, his arms around me, and pressed a kissed to my bare shoulder blade. His hand slid under my tank top, his fingers sprawling against my bare skin and his voice was soft and gentle. "…Another nightmare?"

I nodded, that tightening feeling of guilt and uncertainty gripping me again. …It was just so much easier to not explain… because I didn't know _what_ to explain. I had no idea how I felt, much less how to tell him that I was crying because I couldn't imagine him in a wedding scenario I had only just dreamed up, less than a week before we were getting married. He laid another kiss on my shoulder, tugging me closer despite the fact that my back was flush to his bare chest.

"…I'm here, honey. …I told you to wake me up when this happens."

I sniffled. "…You've hardly slept…"

He nuzzled my neck affectionately, his nose sliding behind my ear. "You know you're the most important thing in my world, Sara. …I don't ever need to sleep more than I need to hold you." Another kiss. "…Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. I never talked about it. Never. Jace knew… some basics. He knew I'd grown up in foster care because my mother had killed my abusive father. He knew I had a brother. …He didn't know how bad it sometimes was, and he didn't know that my mother wasn't the only one he hurt. …He didn't know that my brother and I didn't talk, not because we'd lost touch when I went into the system, but because a week before my mother snapped, my dad had been looking for him and even though my brother always hid me… always took the beating rather than telling Dad where I was… when he backhanded me and said I'd be sorry if I didn't tell him where Brandon was, I told him.

Brandon almost died, and the next time he ever looked like he was going to come after one of us, my mother killed him. …My whole world falling apart was essentially my fault. If I'd been strong, and brave, like Brandon, it never would have happened.

He kissed me again, holding me close and gently running his hand over my stomach until he felt me untense in his arms. I knew from experience that, tired as he was, he wasn't going back to sleep until I said I was better… and while I thought about faking being better… It felt like too much. …One lie that couldn't be forgiven.

So I sat and closed my eyes and allowed myself to be soothed… and I actually did manage to sleep a couple hours before the alarm went off and I had to rise out of his arms, loose in sleep, and head to the shower. This morning, I really needed it.

I thought about going to different lectures… I thought about not going at all. I thought about what Grissom would say, after the previous night… I thought about the idea of never seeing him again… and I made my way into the lecture hall, sitting in the back and hoping that my puffy, sore eyes were not as evident as they'd appeared this morning in the mirror. He had lectures all morning, and I sat through them, only offering a smile and not moving down to talk in between them. He seemed to understand, when I came down at the time I knew he had a couple hours, offering me a smile and eyes that didn't seem like they were judging me.

"…Hi."

"Hi. …Did you sleep at all?" Apparently the bags under my eyes were worse than I thought.

"A little. …I never sleep much."

He frowned. "…Can I take you to lunch?"

"I can take you…"

He shook his head. "We'll pay for ourselves, then. …How's pizza sound?"

I opened my mouth to tell him yes, despite my guilt telling me to tell him no, but I never got the words out.

"Sara!" I turned around, and there was Jace, hurrying into the abandoned lecture bowl, grinning at me. …Oh, god, I was going to be sick.

"…Jace. Hi. What are you doing here?" …Did that sound guilty?

He came within reach of me and slid an arm around my waist. "Hi." He pressed a kiss into my hair. "I saw the conference flier in the kitchen and saw a break in Dr. Grissom's lectures… figured you'd be having lunch, so I came over to eat with you." He glanced at Dr. Grissom and offered him the hand that had moments before been resting on my hip. "Hi, you must be Dr. Grissom. I'm Jace Wendt, Sara's fiancé. I'm sorry to interrupt… I'm sure she was badgering you with questions."

I laughed nervously as Dr. Grissom took his hand, shook it slowly, with an uneasy smile, before Jace replaced the arm around me. "…She was trying. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wendt."

"Jace, please." He glanced at me. "…Do you need a minute to get your questions in, or can we go?"

I looked uncertainly between the two, not wanting to hurt Dr. Grissom's feelings and yet feeling… powerless. I hadn't even cheated and yet I felt like I was about to be found out. …How did people do this? Who would actively _choose_ this? "Oh… I… Dr. Grissom and I were going to…"

I frowned, but Dr. Grissom stepped in to help me. "It's fine." He glanced at Jace. "So many questions… not nearly enough time for lunch. But really, Sara, I'll make time to answer your questions later…"

Jace shook his head. "Oh no, I didn't realize. …You know what? Let's all go. My treat."

Dr. Grissom looked alarmed, but he disguised it well. I wondered how much experience he had with this kind of this and whether he was just that enigmatic in general that even a situation like this was easy for him to manage. "Oh, no, I don't want to intrude. Please, go without me."

"No, I insist. Sara's been waiting months to meet you and see your lectures… She'd never forgive me if I took her away from a chance to pick your brain. Besides, it's nice to meet the man behind the articles… she's read a few to me, but it's not really my interest area…"

Dr. Grissom wasn't sure how to react to Jace. …He was so open, right away, that it could often be disarming. He had no secrets… most people did, and they didn't know how to handle someone who didn't. "Well, I…"

"Really. The way Sara lights up after reading something you've published… I owe it to you. You make my bride-to-be very happy." He gestured that we should go ahead, and reluctantly Dr. Grissom picked up his briefcase and we headed out, with me extremely aware of the presence of his arm, lingering affectionately on my waist. …He knew that the nightmares sometimes didn't go away, even the next day, when I was expected to function, and touching him helped. He always made a point to touch me after a bad night… He was being sweet, and all I could think of was how uncomfortable I felt and how strange it must be for Dr. Grissom to see me with him.

"…Speaking of the wedding, honey, did you invite Dr. Grissom?"

My eyes were wide. "I… I didn't think…"

He turned to Dr. Grissom. "…She thought it was strange to ask someone she'd just met to our wedding, but it is this Saturday, if you'll still be in town. I mean, it's the least we can do what with your offer to keep in touch with Sara to help with her career. We've had two relatives cancel, so if you would like to come, you can bring a date and there's an open bar…"

He looked pale and shook his head. "I… No, I… My flight leaves on Friday. …Thank you, for the invitation, though. It was very… thoughtful."

Jace gave him an open grin and suggested we go to the pizza place on campus—it was one of the few things within walking distance. …I was sure that that had been what Dr. Grissom was suggesting, when the lunch had been for two rather than three. I did my best to give him a way out.

"You know, honey… I'm sure Dr. Grissom doesn't want to feel like a third wheel…"

He shook his head, his hands up in a open gesture. "No, of course not. If anything, I'm the third wheel. …I'll let you guys talk bugs and bodies and mostly try not to listen, because I will probably lose my appetite if I do…"

I sighed under my breath. Fuck.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Enjoy! Sorry I took so long to update. I rewrote this several times...

Let me know what you think!

Edit: I wrote 'Michael' in here... if you've already read this chapter, it was supposed to be 'Jace'. I was rereading and thinking about updating Destiny today, and he's a character in that story... So sorry. :)

* * *

Chapter Eighteen:

It would have been so much easier for me, to hate him.

We walked to the pizza restaurant, and not only did he hold doors for Sara, but for me as well. We sat down and decided on a pizza we'd all enjoy, ordered, and then he sat back, smiling, telling us to not let him bother us. …And he meant it. He wasn't playing games and he wasn't saying it was okay while being resentful… he honestly wanted us to talk forensics because he believed that was the point of us going for lunch. He had come all the way over to see her, and was content to watch her talk to another man about something he found boring and disgusting, just because it would make her happy and allowed him to spend some time in her presence.

How do you deal with a guy like that? I had this strange scene playing out in my head of Sara admitting to him what she'd been doing while he was at work the past few nights… going so far as to tell him that she'd wanted something to happen, and him… what? Smiling and kissing her temple and telling her to do what made her happy?!

I wanted him to get mad. To snap at her unreasonably. To be inconsiderate or annoying while we talked about my timeline regression lecture—she had more than enough questions to make our alibi believable—or to be suspicious and demanding. I wanted him to… I don't know, have bad table manners or be not very intelligent or not very attractive.

He was none of that, did none of that, seemed perfectly incapable of anything remotely like it.

When the pizza arrived, the conversation shifted away from bugs and bodies and, apparently, to me.

"Do you like Vegas?"

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "I do. I mean… there's a lot of excess there, but… it means you're rarely bored at work."

Sara smiled in amusement and Jace laughed, an open, happy, trusting sound. "Neither of us have ever been there, though we've talked about taking a trip, someday. How long have you lived there?"

"Oh, wow." I laughed. "Years and years… I worked in Minneapolis for a while after I left college… moved to LA… and the Vegas lab recruited me from there."

"Minneapolis, huh? It's a lot colder up there than down here… I don't know if we could ever live somewhere so cold."

He was being friendly—asking and sharing, giving and taking. But everything was me, and then him and Sara. I knew this was how things were… the way they were supposed to be. I knew that, but it was driving me crazy.

"I lived in Boston, Jace. …I love snow."

He gave her an affectionate smile, and I wondered what was behind it. Her words, which almost felt like a way in which she was distancing herself from him, put all kinds of thoughts in my head. Sara bundled up in a heavy winter coat, her nose and cheeks cold, her breath visible on the air. Sara curled up in warm PJs by a roaring fire while the wind howled outside. Sara in a red and white lace bra and panty set, with a Santa hat on her head.

"Okay, well, I could never live somewhere so cold. Besides, honey, Boston has an ocean. …I don't think you could live without an ocean."

She smiled. "There is that…" Sara on a beach in the moonlight. Sara in a swimsuit, sun in her hair. Sara lying on her stomach on a surf board on the sand, naked, her head resting demurely on hands folded under her chin.

I cleared my throat to rid the images, unintentionally drawing their attention to me. I picked up a piece of pizza. "Excuse me…" I said, taking a bite and hoping that would suffice. Jace seemed to remember he was trying to be polite and ask about me.

"Are you married?" I nearly choked on the piece of pizza, coughing and setting down my slice to meet his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry… I mean, I didn't see a ring, but I thought… lots of men don't wear rings for their jobs. I always worry about Sara wearing hers to work…"

I shook my head. "No… it's fine. I just swallowed wrong. I… No, I'm… I'm not."

Jace smiled in a way that seemed a little sad for me, but surprisingly, managed it without seeming condescending. Seriously, did the man have no faults? He was younger than me, more attractive, nicer and more attentive… just as smart, as far as I could tell. And not to sound arrogant, but that was impressive. For example, earlier I'd quoted Shakespeare in response to something Sara had said about the case I'd used in my timeline regression lecture—Jace had been able to tell me that it was Shakespeare, the play it was from, the character who spoke it, and it which Act it had been spoken.

I had turned to him, asking if he'd minored in theatre or English in his undergrad, and he had shrugged and said no, he was just a fan.

I admit it—I was spiteful. At the first lull in the conversation, I raised an issue I knew might cause some problems. I wanted to see him in a light that wasn't… well, perfect. I wanted to see how they interacted around something they disagreed about, even if it was in front of someone. "So… the big day is this Saturday, you said? You have a honeymoon coming up?"

Sara gave me a look—she knew I knew the answer to this—but Jace just smiled, swallowing his bite of pizza and taking a drink of his soda for good measure. "We're still saving up. Neither of us have families with a lot of money, so we had to save up to pay for the wedding. We should be going in a year though…"

"Oh? Where are you going?" I asked, looking politely interested while Sara aimed a kick at me under the table and hit the table leg instead. It shook beneath us and Jace turned and gave her a curious look.

She smiled an embarrassed smile. "Sorry… I think I've got a rock in my shoe. I was kicking to make it move off to one side so it wouldn't bother me so much…"

I had to fight back a grin in this interaction. Jace shrugged, giving her a smile like he thought it was the most adorable thing in the world that she had nearly thrown our lunch to the floor in an attempt to free a rock, and looked back at me. "We're undecided. Sara has dreams of somewhere exotic—the rainforest or Paris, which would be great, but…" He gave her an indulgent smile, like he thought she was being a little silly in these desires. "Living in a tent outside a research center and 'walking in the footsteps of Darwin' sounds more like work than a honeymoon… and neither of us speak French. I'd like to go to somewhere like Hawaii, where we can lounge on the beach all day, walk twenty steps up to our little bungalow when it gets too hot… days long and languid and nights cool and sweet—dancing and drinking and walking under the stars."

It took everything in me not to take a page out of Sara's book and kick the man under the table. Seriously, this was supposed to be a topic of dissention and even in his refusal to give her what she wanted, he was being sweet and romantic. …How could I compete with this man?

Despite Sara knowing what I was up to, she turned to him anyway, perhaps just to make the conversation seem natural. "I keep telling him that there are beaches in Costa Rica too… and Paris is the City of Lights. Is there any place more romantic for a honeymoon? Or let's go to Australia—no language barrier, no tents, but we could surf and sunbathe and snorkel on the Great Barrier Reef…"

He clucked his tongue. "Maybe I'm just boring, honey… I'd like someplace simple and close to home… without a twenty hour plane trip."

She frowned and looked down at her pizza. He was more than kind… more than understanding… but she still wasn't happy. …While this gave me hope that she could still change her mind and leave him for me, it didn't make me feel confident that I would be able to make her happy. If this guy couldn't keep her from looking at me, what on earth made me so confident that I could keep her from looking at someone else? Did I really believe that if she left him and gave us a chance, she'd never be attracted to another man in her life? Never feel any connection?

And when she did… would I be enough to keep her coming home each night, even if I was working and would never know? …Would I be okay with her being mine, and not-cheating on me the way she'd been not-cheating on him, with me?

I felt… hopeless, when we left. I hardly fought to pay for the meal, though I had intended to, and then I made my excuses, saying I needed to prepare for my next lecture, so they could have the last half hour to themselves. I shook Jace's hand, thanking him for the meal—and meaning it; you just couldn't hate the guy—and wishing them both the best of luck with their wedding.

Once back in the lecture hall, alone, I pulled out my cell phone and called the airport. I had lied when I said my flight was on Friday—it left late on Friday afternoon. Chances were that I would be in town while they got married, though I wouldn't be able to attend the reception. …I had no intention of attending either. I tried to switch to a flight on Thursday first, just after my last lecture… but they were full. I tried for Friday… they said they could put me on standby. …I took what I could get, and agreed.

Despite how connected I felt to Sara… how attracted… how very much I wanted to see what we could become… I would be happy to go home and put San Francisco behind me.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: In the last chapter, in case you haven't read it since I changed it, I wrote 'Michael' instead of Jace, accidentally. :) Mea Culpa. I was thinking about Destiny while I wrote it and he is a character who, in my mind, looks a lot like Jace. So sorry.

Let me know what you think!

* * *

Chapter Nineteen:

Dr. Grissom made an excuse to go back to the lecture hall and leave us alone, putting an end to the whole awful, awkward affair. I breathed a silent sigh of relief when he left us, leaning more fully into Jace's embrace. Confused as I may be, his touch always brought comfort, and that hadn't changed. He kissed the top of my head and led to me to a stone bench nearby, surrounding a rather large, rather ugly sculpture the Art Department had most likely done or commissioned or advocated. He shook his head slowly. "Poor guy."

I looked up at him in surprise. "…What do you mean?"

He just smiled softly down at me. "Didn't you see the way he reacted when I asked if he was married? …He might not be right now, but he had to've been, at one time or another… He literally choked on his food at my question. …Don't you find that strange?"

I fidgeted. I had written his reaction off as a result of the situation we were in… but Jace hadn't asked anything about the pair of us. …Maybe he was right. …How much did I really know about Dr. Grissom's past? I frowned. "…I guess I didn't think anything of it. What do you think happened?"

He shrugged, slipping his hand into mine. "I don't know. Divorce…death. Maybe he's a widower. …Maybe he never got married, but he came close… I just know pain when I see it."

I leaned again him, squeezing his hand. He was such a good man. I remembered asking Dr. Grissom why he'd never been married, and him telling me there'd been a girl in college who he thought was _the one_, but science was more important. …Was she the woman who'd broken his heart, or was it someone else he'd not mentioned to me? Or was Jace completely off here?

I shrugged. "I guess it didn't even occur to me."

He grinned. "You were too caught up in the case, I'm sure. The food coming interrupted your never-ending questions." He teased. "But if you're not particularly interested in the maturation of blow flies, you pay more attention to other things."

I glanced at him, curiously, wondering what that was implying… but there was no suspicion in his gaze, and Jace always wore his emotions on his sleeve. When he had believed, correctly, that his sister's boyfriend was cheating on her, I knew it before he would vocalize his concerns. He was adept at hiding nothing and Dr. Grissom and I… we were both well-practiced, though I didn't know where he had gained the skill. …There was apparently a lot I didn't know about him. Why on earth did that surprise me? I hardly knew the man.

When I didn't answer, he continued. "…You gave him your information, didn't you?"

Speaking of hiding emotions… I turned a careful gaze to him. "…Yeah. Why?"

He shook his head. "I just… you should urge him to contact you. I mean, don't make it obvious… the guy's obviously in a lot of pain, but… Even if he just had someone to e-mail once in a while. …He seems like he could use a friend."

I swallowed. He was giving me permission… No, he was _suggesting_ that I stay in contact with Dr. Grissom after we got married. Promoting the friendship. He didn't understand. I shook my head. "…He seems like a really private man, Jace. …I doubt he'd open up to me."

He shrugged. "Just a thought… human contact couldn't hurt, even if all you ever do is talk forensics." He glanced at his watch. "Anyway… I think your lecture will be starting soon." He stood up and together we moved back towards the lecture building.

"…I could skip it. Take the rest of the day off with you."

He shook his head. "You've been waiting months for this conference. I wouldn't dream of taking you away from it. …Besides, I really feel like this guy is reaching out to you. I mean, you probably didn't notice because that brain of yours was going a million miles a minute, but… he looks at you like he trusts you. …I'm not saying you have to be his friend. I mean, if that's weird to you, by all means, disregard me… but if you have a chance to help someone just by talking about a mutual interest… Why wouldn't you?"

I nodded, slowly, thinking that Jace was too good for his own good. How could I explain that the very best thing for me, and him, and Dr. Grissom, would be if we never spoke again after this week? Because regardless of whatever connection I felt to the man… surely I could feel connections to a lot of people, in my life. It wasn't that I could never love anyone but Jace… it was that Jace was not only meant for me, but the person I'd chosen. And in that choice, came a commitment. Regardless of what was between Dr. Grissom and I, it was… secondary, to what Jace and I had. So it would be better for all concerned if I made a clean break.

"Well, we'll see…" I said, noncommittally. He smiled and pulled me to him, kissing me softly.

"…I'll see you for supper?" …Before you go to work, I corrected in my head, but with surprisingly little bitterness. He had been wonderful, this morning and in coming to see me. I knew he really didn't mean for our night to be interrupted, last night.

"Of course."

"Have fun." He kissed me again, and we went our separate ways—he back to his car, and me into the lecture hall, and Dr. Grissom.

I sat in the back, and waved to him before I turned to leave, a couple hours and lectures later. He motioned me down and I hesitated, but turned and made the trek down to him. He frowned slightly. "…You were just going to leave?"

I swallowed. "I… Yeah, I was. I… I can't… Jace is at home, right now."

He nodded. "Okay…I didn't necessarily mean we had to go somewhere, I just… I figured you would say goodbye."

"I waved."

He nodded again. "Okay… You've made up your mind. …I… That's good. Almost a relief, actually." I frowned, noting the flash of pain in his eyes. What if Jace had been right? "Here…" He pulled out his wallet, handing me back the hundred dollar bill with my information.

I frowned. The idea of being completely out of contact with him… not just never seeing him but going back to not knowing him at all… it was overwhelming. I shook my head. "Keep it… 'til the end of the week, at least."

He frowned and opened his mouth to protest, but then sighed and replaced it in his wallet. He hadn't said as much, but now there was an understanding… he would accept me changing my mind, at least until the end of the week. We had a ticking clock, but until it ran out…

"…You'd better get home to him."

I nodded. "Yeah…"

"He's… he's a nice guy, Sara." He said, and I was struck by how genuine he seemed. …And once again, how sad.

"I know. He… He really is." I didn't mean for my voice to sound sad as well, but his next question told me he noticed.

"Is he… working tonight?"

I swallowed. "Yes. …But… I'm not going to… I won't be… I'm just gonna catch up on sleep."

He nodded, but didn't look convinced. "Well… I'll keep my phone turned up, just in case."

I opened my mouth to argue, but this time, he walked away from me.

That night, Jace was busy talking about the wedding. He'd talked to his mother today… they'd be flying in on Thursday evening, two nights from now, to help prepare for the wedding. Jace and his sisters still lived here… they'd all grown up here. His parents had moved to New York after their youngest turned eighteen and graduated high school, to care for his grandmother who needed a lot of assistance but refused to move—his grandfather was buried there.

We'd go out to eat, Thursday night, and Friday morning I would go to my last couple lectures, be back in time for lunch with the family and a day of finishing up the final details. I had wanted a very low-key wedding… so his mother and sisters were taking care of the details I hadn't been entirely interested in. Friday night, Jace was going to spend the night on one of his sister's couches and Rachel was spending the night with me. I'd invited the others—Kyleigh and Michelle, who said they preferred to sleep in their own bed—and Jace's sister… my other bridesmaid. He had three, but had picked the youngest one because his older two had each been in the other's wedding. But she too, had declined, thanking me but saying she didn't want bags under her eyes in the pictures… she was a light sleeper, and never slept well in a strange place.

And then Saturday… I was getting married.

I tried to be involved in the plan… in the favors his mother had described that Jace didn't care about but felt obligated to tell me about… but I couldn't. The whole big-wedding fiasco was something I'd be dreading since we'd begun planning it, but it was important to his mother, and he was her only son… the only child who was likely to let her have a say. I picked at my food and he asked if I was feeling alright…

I shook my head saying I hadn't slept much the night before, which was true, and he kissed my forehead and told me to go to bed and he would clean up. So I showered, brushed my hair, changing into pajamas, and curled into bed. He came in to change into greasy clothes and kiss me softly, telling me he didn't think he'd be too late tonight… one or two at the latest…and then he left.

And tired as I was, I wasn't sure that I could sleep.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: I'm really excited about this chapter. Let me know what you think! :)

* * *

Chapter Twenty:

She said she wouldn't call me, and that was good, because it meant that she knew what she was doing. It was good, because then I could go about the business of getting over a woman I'd never even had. I hadn't meant to fall for her—I really hadn't—but I had… I had fallen for the nuances of her expressions and the lilt in her voice and the whip-like quality of her humor—quick and biting. I had fallen for the willowy shape of her body and the musical, husky sound of her laugh, and for the sharp intelligence that enticed me and challenged me to no end.

So it was good, that she wasn't going to call, because every moment I spent with her would make it harder in the end. It was good. So good, in fact, that I was glad she wasn't going to call. Chances were, I wouldn't even answer if she did. So it was… just good… that she wasn't.

My phone rang, and I literally scrambled from the end of the hotel bed, up and across it to the nightstand.

"Hello?!"

"…Dr. Grissom?"

"Sara." I said, on a sigh, cursing myself for sounding so needy.

"…Have you eaten yet?"

I hadn't, but it was rather late. "Haven't you?"

"I… had supper but… I didn't eat most of it."

"Oh."

She swallowed. "If… you've eaten… that's fine. I was just thinking… my in-laws are coming on Thursday, and… we said we'd eat… before the wedding."

I swallowed compulsively. My mouth was dry. "I… haven't eaten."

"I can pick you up?"

"…Sure. I… twenty minutes?"

"…I'll be there. Uh… your room number?"

"I'll come out front."

"Oh. …Okay. Okay. …Twenty minutes, then."

"Great." I said, hating how strained my voice sounded.

"Great," she repeated, and hung up the phone. I sighed, getting up and changing back into the pants I'd worn for the day and finding a fresh shirt, thankful that Catherine had lectured me about bringing extra clothes, just in case. I wasn't sure what I'd do without the woman. I reapplied deodorant and brushed my hair and teeth, put on socks and shoes, and paced my hotel room the final ten minutes before I knew she'd be arriving.

I didn't even know why I was doing this… why I wasn't telling her that I couldn't trust her if she could do this to Jace… that she needed to make up her mind. …I knew that wasn't fair. She had tried, multiple times, in the beginning, to tell me no. I had pushed her into seeing what was between us, and now that she saw it, she didn't know what to do. But that was when I had believed that I was a better choice for her than whoever she was with… and now that I'd met Saint Jace… I wasn't so sure.

I moved out to wait in the entryway of the hotel, uncertain what her car looked like—it was old-looking, on the outside, though from the sound of it I would guess the engine was new… or completely rebuilt. Probably Jace's doing. I scowled at the car and slid into her passenger seat. She glanced at me.

"Hi."

"Hi." I said, thinking that I forgot how lovely she was, each time I saw her. Thinking that I was falling in love with her, and I hadn't wanted to even think the word before she made up her mind, but she had every piece of me responding to her and she wasn't doing anything.

"…You like seafood?"

I nodded, and that was enough… a short drive to a seafood place near my hotel that she clearly knew about. We were seated next to a large picture window that was propped open to let in the salty breeze. It was old… had probably been here for decades… and everything came in gigantic portions. We ordered calamari for an appetizer, along with our drinks—I wasn't driving, so I opted for a beer. I would need it, tonight. And once the waiter swept away, she leveled me with her dark gaze, eyes clouded in confusion.

"…Your first time."

I swallowed. There was no discussion… and strangely, it wasn't needed. We understood the situation we were in, and agonizing over it would do nothing. And I knew myself well enough to know that no matter what ultimatums I might voice or think to myself, until she was a married woman, I would allow her to change her mind and welcome her with open arms. So until the time ran out, what discussion was necessary? Instead, we were telling our secrets.

"I was… nineteen. I… I was a devout Catholic, through high school. I mean, I doubted certain things, but the core belief was there, so… the idea of sex before married was… unthinkable. I had had a serious high school girlfriend, for a while… but we went off to different colleges and… she wasn't really ready either."

"…Who was she?"

I frowned, seeking to avoid that specific detail. "Her name was Susan. We… shared a lot of common interests. Biology, entomology… science in general."

"You met her at school?"

My lips twitched. "…Yes. I… Yes."

"Was she… the girl who you didn't have money for, because of the cadavers?"

"…Yes."

"You dated her for a long time."

"…Three years." I nodded, wondering how she'd picked up on that. I swallowed again. "I… We're talking about the first sexual encounter, not the person…"

She raised her eyebrows, but didn't push me. She just nodded, and I slowly released the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"We were in a lab, on campus, late… working on a project. We'd… flirted, but… I hadn't made a move because she was… out of my league. I was attracted but I never thought… Our hands kept touching on dissection tools and the pen and… and when our eyes locked, it was like fire." I felt the familiar pang in my chest at my words, but I had promised. "I was… too scared, to act. But she kissed me, over the top of a tray with a half-dissected fetal pig, and even though I wasn't sure… I… I couldn't help but kiss her back. And all of a sudden, we were standing up, tearing off gloves and lab coats and stumbling into the storage room."

Her eyes were wide. "…Your first time was in a storage room on campus?"

I felt my cheeks burning. "I… Yeah. I didn't have anything, of course…but she was on birth control, she said. …I told her that I wasn't sure… and she realized, what that meant, and I think… that appealed to her more. She helped me… stopped when I was a little too… involved and was going to lose it… told me what she liked and what… to do."

"Did you get caught?"

I shook my head. "No… we were the only ones in the building."

She frowned. "We were never allowed in the labs without a teacher in the building…"

I shrugged. "I grew up in a different time…" There, that sounded plausible.

She nodded, slowly, her eyes out of focus… and I knew she was picturing it. This made me a little uncomfortable, and I was relieved when our calamari and drinks arrived and she was diverted. It was not a story I particularly enjoyed sharing.

We ate slowly, but I was not going to forget her end of the deal—dinner and her own story. "…You haven't said anything."

She smiled softly. "I'm sorry… it's just so much more… voyeuristic… than I would have guessed for you." I blushed again and she chuckled. "Please don't take offense. I'm not trying to say you're… boring. You just seem… private." The last word came soft and breathy and sent shivers down my spine. "…Why did you… break up? I mean, if you dated for three years, you couldn't have been spending all your money on fetal pigs from the beginning, right?"

I shook my head. "We… outgrew… each other." She frowned at my vagueness and I cleared my throat. "…You?


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry such a short last chapter. Hope this makes up for it. :)

* * *

Chapter Twenty One:

She laughed. "Mine can't really compare to that story… it was much less… public."

I grinned, despite myself. She had a way of making everything seem… better. "I promise, I won't make comments about how voyeuristic I've imagined you to be." I winked, feeling the tense, tight feeling that had overtaken me when I'd talked about Susan dissipate. She blushed and smiled and at that moment our food arrived, briefly interrupting our conversation.

I had a creamy seafood pasta dish… Sara had an assortment of seafood—shrimp, lobster, crab, scallops. And as I said, the plates were massive. Sara requested two extra plates and we went about splitting our meals in half without even discussing it, handing each other the spare plates. Sara leaned her forearms on the table, picking up and cracking her crab legs expertly while she spoke. "I… I lived in a foster home from the time I was ten until I was sixteen and went to college."

My head snapped up. I had not been expecting that. Needing something to do with my hands, I slid my pasta to one side and picked up the crab legs she'd given me, staring at the bowl in the center of the table as the sound of cracking surrounded us and shells fell into it. "…Okay." I said, figuring that this was vital information to her story, or else she would not have shared it. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable with the admission.

"I was sixteen and it was the summer before I was leaving to Harvard. I… had a foster brother… Well, I mean… he was my foster parent's son, not another foster child. He was… nineteen or twenty and was living at home during the summer. He was attending MIT. …He was flipping brilliant."

I cracked a leg, dipped the meat in butter, put it in my mouth, not looking at her. She was being far more forthcoming, despite it sounding like her first time might have been as… unconventional… as mine, but I could tell she was still uncomfortable.

"He… We started talking, became friends, when I was asking him about school. He wanted to blow me off at first… dumb little girl bothering him. When he found out that I was becoming emancipated in a few short months… going to Harvard… he gave me a chance. When he realized that, despite my age, I could keep up with him on the majority of topics… we became friends. I guess."

"You guess?" I asked, because I had a feeling she might not expand on that if I let it go. I worked on pulling tails off my shrimp. She sighed.

"It was a strange friendship. He… We would fool around and… I liked him… but I'm not really sure if he liked me or if he was using me or…" He took a deep breath and her hands, the only part of her I could see, trembled above the bowl. "He talked about the entire relationship as a learning experience. Preparing me for college. And even though I knew I shouldn't be okay with it… I was. I liked him and… I had a lot of problems with… low-self esteem. I was… self-destructive. It's probably why I liked the guy in the first place."

I dropped the shrimp and with them the pretension that I didn't realize how upset she was. I reached over and wrapped a hand around her small, delicate fingers. She reacted instinctively, curling them around mine and flickering her gaze up to me. I wasn't going to push her to describe the actual event, but she squeezed my hand across the table and drew in a deep breath.

"His parents went out of town for a weekend, leaving him in charge… it was us and another, really little kid. Once he went to sleep… Well, it was the perfect opportunity. And… I don't know that I actually asked myself if I was ready to have sex or even if I wanted it… I just assumed that that was where the relationship was heading and, knowing that… this was one of the few chances we'd have to not be interrupted. He… had a bigger bed, so we did it in his room… He tried his best to make it painless, but I was so nervous that I was… over thinking everything. I couldn't get caught up in being with him, because I knew what was coming and… it hurt… a lot."

I squeezed her hand again, meaning to offer comfort, but it only seemed to remind her that we were indeed still holding hands. She swallowed and pulled from my grasp, picking up a fork and digging in to the pasta I'd given her. I followed her example, starting to eat… but I didn't want to leave this gaping void following that revelation.

"So… you went to college and… Did you ever see him again?"

She smirked a little. "About a year ago, actually. He flunked out of MIT… I ran into him in the grocery store. He wanted to go out again and it took everything in me not to laugh in his face. I… politely declined."

I grinned. "I bet that made him happy…"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, really! What did he expect?" She laughed, and then smiled at me. "…Thank you."

I nodded, not needing any explanation. "…This was amazing."

She grinned. "It's one of my favorite restaurants. I've always loved seafood—my mom used to tease me that I was cracking crab legs before I was walking."

I frowned. "I… Nevermind."

To my surprise, she smiled. "You can ask about them…"

"Your parents?"

"My father was abusive. My mother, brother, and I went to the hospital countless times… in those days, men didn't even have to be careful about their hitting. There's new legislation, now, but back then… Anyway, usually it was just an ER visit—stitches, concussion, broken wrist or jaw… I mean, not good, but… My brother was hospitalized, when I was ten, for like a week… a broken rib punctured his lung and there were a lot of other complications. The next time my dad came for us, my mom lost it—she pulled out a butcher knife and killed him… and promptly proceeded to have a break from reality, leaving my brother and I to argue about whether we call the police or try to hide his body and clean up the kitchen."

I swallowed. That was… horrible. Awful. How… how could she speak about it so candidly? So openly? She shrugged. "I won. I mean… we didn't call 911 like I wanted, but our neighbors had heard the shouting and… I'm sure they knew how we'd lived. They figured they were calling to save one of us, and instead the police arrived and found a body and a woman who was positively raving, still clinging to the knife like it was her lifeline."

It took everything in me not to grab her into my arms from across the table… to slide into her side of the booth and wrap my arms around her. …I settled for taking her hand again. She blinked rapidly, looking away, fighting back the tears. I squeezed again, and she sniffled and stared at the ceiling… I ran my thumb over her hand until she'd gained control again.

And again, she pulled her hand from mine. "Thank you."

I nodded, feeling absolutely baffled as to what to say to her now. I hadn't expected her to open up to me, so much… That had to mean something, right?

"My dad died when I was nine." I said, and she glanced at me. I cleared my throat. "I mean… He wasn't murdered or anything. It… could have been a lot of things but… I think it was heat stroke. …My mom wouldn't tell me anything, at the time and later… I couldn't ask. …She never got over him, even after all this time. Her eyes still light up when she talks about him. But… she went deaf shortly after that. She'd been losing her hearing before that but… I think, without him, she was content to stop hearing anything…even me. So I… I spent most of my home life in silence. I mean, she could speak, but she…didn't. Not once I'd learned sign language."

She frowned. "…How did that happen? Going deaf, I mean? Was she hurt or…"

"Otosclerosis." I provided, not wanting to, but feeling that I needed to be as honest as she had. I just hoped the whole kids-with-me-could-be-deaf thing wouldn't be a make or break kind of thing. "It's a hereditary condition but… there're surgeries they can do, now. If my mom had started losing her hearing now, as opposed to all those years ago… she'd probably be fine." Well, I mean… maybe I was sugar-coating a little.

"…Are you…?"

I shrugged. "Dunno… I might not even carry the gene. But… it's possible."

She nodded, slowly, and then, "…Do you want children?"

"…I'm not sure. I mean… I wouldn't be opposed to it. I… haven't seriously thought about a family in a very long time. …You?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I used to think I didn't… I used to think I'd turn out like my mother, with someone like my dad. But now… Yeah, I think, someday… I would really like to be a mother."

I couldn't help it, I sighed. "I guess that means your mind is made up… again."

She frowned, and shook her head, this time sliding her hand into mine. "…A… hereditary condition… wouldn't make me choose not to be with someone." I glanced at her and she seemed to realize what she'd said. "Not… that I'm leaving Jace. I… I just meant, you know… if Jace weren't in the picture… I wouldn't… not…with you… because of that."

I swallowed and nodded and even managed a small smile, thinking I ought to feel relief and not feeling that at all. What I really felt was an overwhelming desire to pull her to my chest and wrap my arms around her tightly. I pulled my hand away, this time, though it pained me to do so.

"Did you folks save any room for desert?" The waiter asked us, but both of us had just barely finished what we'd had. We both shook our heads and he left the check, Sara taking it and once again rolling out the money she'd hustled out of me to pay the bill and gratuity.

She sighed, looking at me, and without speaking we both stood up to leave, even if we didn't want to. Time was up on this evening… time was constantly ticking away… Pretty soon, I wouldn't have her in my life at all anymore. And even if, logically, I knew that would be for the best… my heart thudded painfully in my chest at the thought. It was… unimaginable. Unendurable. …Inevitable.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: I hope the length makes up for the delay in posting. I want to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday! It was very thoughtful and each one made me smile! :)

Also, Happy National Jellybean Day! (Screw Earth Day... and those hippies who care about the earth... like Sara...) Jelly, I hope you enjoy the chapter, as it is on your day... You know, once you're done swooning over WP long enough to read it. :P

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twenty Two:

I just couldn't stay away. I had gone home, the night before, after eating. I had showered to make sure the smell of crab didn't linger on my fingers, and while in the shower under a hot and steady stream, I had given myself a stern talking to. Because this all came down to one question—Was I going to marry Jace, or was I going to leave him? And if I was honest with myself, it was doubtful that I would not marry a man I was very sure about and who I loved and who I was very good with… just to take a chance with this mystery entomologist.

It troubled me that I couldn't absolutely say, even just in trying to delude myself, that yes I was going to marry Jace and be happy with that outcome.

But if I was logical about this… if I left him, the worst case scenario would be that I would lose the one person in my life who I absolutely trusted and loved without question… the man who had been there for me, through everything… A man who probably was my one and only. And for what? A relationship with a man I barely knew who lived in another city? …That was crazy. And the worst case scenario if I married him… I would have a devoted and loving husband who would support me, be a good father to our children, and a true and genuine partner in the life we would build together.

So I absolutely had to stop whatever it was I was doing with Dr. Grissom. Because what I would have with Jace, whether I regret my decision to marry him later or not, would be better than I ever thought I had a right to hope for… better than I had even believed I deserved, when I met him. I could be a good, loyal, faithful, dutiful wife and life partner and mother of his children… I could do that, easily, and count myself blessed.

Really, all this doubt probably had more to do with my own cold feet than it had to do with Dr. Grissom himself… so once I was married, things would change. I would be permanently off-limits, he would stop pursuing me, and whether we had a friendship or not, the lines would be clear… Everything would be easier, once I said my I-do's. …So I just had to get there, relationship intact.

I crawled into bed, leaving my hair wet, and watched infomercials, waiting for sleep to come. I was seriously considering buying the item they were advertising—a slicer, dicer, and all-around-kitchen-cutting-tool—when Jace came in. I glanced at the clock… a quarter to one. He was early. I rolled over to face the door when I heard him step through it, and he smiled.

"…Can't sleep again?" My insomnia was nothing new to him, especially when my mind was preoccupied. And thanks to my nightmare last night, he would assume he knew why I was preoccupied. I just shook my head slowly and he smiled and bent over to kiss me. "Just let me jump in the shower, get all the dirt and grease off, and then I'll come see if I can help…"

I nodded and watched him pull out of his dirty clothes, depositing them into a separate hamper I had insisted he use for his work clothes after grease ruined three of my favorite shirts in the first week we lived together. I let my eyes slide over his well-muscled back… the broad shoulders, the long V down to his waist, the stretching shape of the muscles in his arms and shoulder blades. He really was a beautiful man. He headed into the bathroom and turned the water on, and rolled over in bed again, laying my cheek against a pillow wet from my hair.

He came back, less awake than me but certainly still awake enough to sit up with an apple in hand, a hand gently running over my back, trying to lull me to sleep while he watched the energetic salesperson rattle off the uses of the device. "…I think we need one of those." He commented absently, and I snorted, laughing to myself.

"That's what I thought… He's obviously got a good pitch."

He grinned down at me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "You must not have been feeling good… You didn't dry your hair before bed, can't sleep… Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head, as I always did, and he nodded, having expected as much. He leaned over a laid a kiss on my forehead. "We could talk for a while… I'm not super tired."

I nodded slowly, thinking that that might help with the uncertainty whirling around in my mind. We'd both been so busy lately that we'd hardly had any time… But if I spent some one-on-one time with him, I would remember everything I'd always loved about him… the reasons I had agreed to marry him. It would help me put all of this nonsense out of my mind.

"What'd you do tonight?"

"Paperwork, mostly. …I started work on attempting to pound some dents out of the bodywork of this old Chevy that was in a crash last week… The guy said he didn't care what it looked like, as long as everything was functioning. …I think if we replace the back, passenger side door, we should be fine… the front didn't open well or far, but after a good deal of work on the front, I should be able to replace the headlight and the door opens so… Here's hoping."

I nodded, rolling over until my head fell onto his bare chest, my left hand resting in the center of his chest, fingertips running through the spare hairs which grew there. "I bet he'll be happy he doesn't have to replace more…"

He shrugged. "I s'pose. How was your night? I see that going to bed early didn't help…"

I smiled softly, having forgotten that I had indeed crawled into bed before he even left because of how little sleep I'd gotten the night before. "No… but I ate a little more and showered, and that's made me feel a little sleepier…"

He bent to kiss my brow again. "I bet it's nerves… The wedding's getting close now. …Are your lower extremities feeling chilly?"

I laughed, enjoying the lilt in his voice as he teased me. "My feet are not cold, thank you very much."

He hummed and scooted down, dragging me lower so his head could rest on the pillows as he deposited his apple core into the wastebasket just next to his bed. I winced at the action but ignored it—I'd take it out in the morning. …Once again, he drifted into an easy sleep, and I rolled away from him, awake for yet another night.

And first thing in the morning, after preparing for the day and attempting to eat and removing the offensive core from the garbage can that we shouldn't put food into—ahem—I was heading to Dr. Grissom's lecture, anxious to see him, even if we didn't speak. …Anxious to speak with him, even if just to ask a question. Anxious to talk to him, not just speak, even if we didn't go anyway, and anxious to spend some time with him, even if it would never lead to anything.

I told you—I just couldn't stay away. And within days he would walk out of my life entirely. Didn't I deserve at least a day or so more in his presence before I had to say goodbye? Didn't I owe it to him, after how compassionate he'd been the night before, to not avoid him?

I didn't sit in the back this time, but in one of the first three rows, and watched as he spoke about any number of brilliant cases and brilliant techniques and his brilliant insights, always trying to make them sound like they'd been a group effort, but not fooling me. I remained in my seat as everyone left—this being Dr. Grissom's only lecture for the morning—and after a moment of hesitation in which he fiddled with his briefcase to disguise his uncertainty, he came to me.

"Hi."

"Hi."

He sat on the back of a chair in the row in front of us, our legs filling the aisle, and glanced at me. "…Let me buy you breakfast."

My stomach turned at the thought, and I wasn't sure if it was lack of sleep—which always made the thought of food less appetizing—or my thoughts that caused it. "No. I'm… I'm not hungry."

"Oh," he said, and I knew that he didn't know if I was saying no to breakfast or to him in general.

"…Do you want to take a walk?"

The corners of his mouth twitched up and he nodded, standing and offering his hand to help me up. Despite my reluctance, I slid my hand into his and let him pull me to standing. The feel of it was nice… warm and mostly soft, a few rough patches making him seem more present and real. It made me think of taking his arms in the bar, and of holding hands while sharing rather painful moments of our pasts the night before.

I pulled from him, thinking that it would be rather hard to explain why we were holding hands if Jace showed up unexpectedly again, but followed closer than was necessary as he stopped to pick up his briefcase and we moved out into the sunlight. A light breeze blew my hair back, behind my shoulders and out of my face, and I drew in an endless breath of it, feeling calmer because of it. We walked away from the building we'd just been in, following the sidewalk to the center of campus and a large, open, grassy area. There were benches, here, lining the sidewalk, but we brushed past them and moved around the area instead, at a slow and unhurried pace.

"…You're not missing another lecture?" He asked me, once we were on our chosen path.

I shrugged. In truth, I was… but had I gotten married this past weekend, I wouldn't have even been attending the conference. …The only reason I had insisted was in order to see the great Gil Grissom speak. …Speaking with the man himself, then, took precedence over those other speakers. "Not really. …You?"

He, too, shrugged noncommittally. "Not really."

I let a moment pass between us. "…Why is it such a secret, the girl you were with?"

He tensed and glanced at me out of the side of his eyes. "It's not a secret, I just don't like to talk about her."

"…Why?"

"It hurts." He said, a little harshly, and I felt chastened. And… jealous. He'd been pursuing this 'connection' between us, but was he really over his first love? He'd been twenty two when they broke up, and now he was forty one. …Shouldn't he be over her by now?

I frowned and watched my feet as I stepped over concrete, the sound of our steps and the scrape of our shoes against the cement setting a sort of bizarre rhythm in my head. _Step. _He loved her._ Step. _He still loves her._ Step. _What does that mean?_ Step. _Nothing._ Step. _It means nothing._ Step. _I'm getting married._ Step. _He loves her, not me._ Step. _Not me._ Step. _Not me._ Step. _Not me._ Step. _

"Are you okay?" I jumped at the feel of his fingers gently clasping my forearm, and he removed them immediately, making me miss them.

"…Yeah. I… I'm fine."

"…You look tired, Sara. How much sleep did you get last night?"

"Sleep?"

He frowned and paused, catching my arm in his grasp again and making my heart flutter. "Let's sit down…" He guided me to a bench in the shade of several large climbing trees, with low and frequent limbs. I had a flashing image of climbing up into them with him and hiding from sight. …Hiding from my life. I jumped again when I felt his palms on my cheeks. "Sara, honey?"

I moved my eyes to meet his, and muttered a soft, "I'm fine," liking the feel of my jaw working beneath his hands. This seemed to reassure him. He sighed and dropped his hands, leaving my cheeks rather colder than they had been a moment before. He glanced at me out of the side of his eyes.

"You're not fine."

I drew in a deep breath. "I… Are you still in love with her?"

His head jerked backwards in surprise. "Who?" He asked, bewildered. I gave him a look and he frowned, thinking back… "…Susan?"

I nodded, turning my head away, not wanting him to see the flash of hurt in my eyes. I was too slow however. He actually chuckled. "No, Sara, I'm not."

I glanced at him again. "…You said it hurts to talk about her."

He sighed dramatically. "Sara… it… I was trying to get you to stop asking about her. It… hurts my pride more than anything."

I narrowed my eyes, letting them slide over his features, trying to understand and taking in each beautiful nuance—each line and curve and dip—as if I might never see them again. "…Why?"

"…Haven't you ever done something colossally stupid and thought, once you were out of the situation, how embarrassed you were that you had ever gotten into the situation at all?"

I nodded, slowly, wondering why it had been stupid to be involved with Susan. Had she been… married? Or… too young? Too old? He'd met her at school so she couldn't have been a friend of his mother's or… Maybe she turned out to be an ex-girlfriend of a friend? The girlfriend of a friend? The sister of a friend? None of that seemed… stupid enough to hurt your pride twenty years after the fact.

I opened my mouth to ask the question… but let it fall closed, uncertain how to broach the subject when he'd been pretty clear he didn't want to talk about her. He nudged me softly. "…You're jealous."

I blushed and turned away. "I… I'm curious."

He smirked. "Yeah, I always get that upset when I'm… curious." He chuckled. "It's okay, you can admit it… I think it's obvious we're attracted to each other. I mean, you've told me more than once that if we'd met without Jace in the picture…"

"But he is in the picture."

"And therefore you… don't feel human emotions like love, lust, and jealousy anymore?"

I felt the heat in my face giving me away, but I cleared my throat and glanced away. "It's stupid to be jealous of her after so long when you haven't… gotten this way… about Jace." Oh god. What did that mean? Why wasn't he jealous?

Once again, he laughed at me. "Are you kidding? You think after everything I've told you this week about… about how I feel about you… that I could ever hear his name without feeling that? …He's a nice guy, Sara, and it would be easier if he wasn't, because then I could hate him in peace… for being younger, more muscled, more attractive, mo—"

"He's not more attractive." I said, and then blanched, realizing what I'd done… and jumping to my feet to put distance between us. A crush was one thing, but feeling that the crush was more attractive than the main man in your life wasn't so easily… dismissible. And the grin that had lit up his face at my words was more than troubling. He jumped up after me, once again catching my arm and this time, pulling me around to face him.

"Sara…"

"What?" I asked, a little desperately.

He put his hands to my cheeks again, covering the blush I felt, and my knees tingled like they were going to give out on me at any second. His eyes flickered from my eyes to my mouth, once, twice, and a third time… and then flickered closed as he bent his head forward, leaning in to kiss me.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, I wrote this instead of doing homework. :) I hope you enjoy. Sorry for those of you who are/will be disappointed.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three:

He paused, a breath away from me. If I had extended my tongue to lick my utterly dry lips, I would have been swiping across his. I swallowed, blinking several times, and then stepped back, uncertain. I didn't know why he had stopped… I didn't want him to stop… Stopping meant that it was within my control. I now had the time to pull away from him, the time to think… the time to be culpable. And that was what he wanted, apparently. He didn't want to kiss me and have me say that I had no part in it… He wanted us to kiss each other. He wanted me to be unable to distance myself from the act.

My chest was rising and falling with my labored breathing, and I was watching him through heavily-lidded eyes, my whole body thrumming with what almost happened and yet still had not. I blinked several times, and he looked to be suffering with the same problems… He was panting, his bright eyes dark, his gaze lingering.

I swallowed. "…What… was that?"

His hands came gently to my arms, running from shoulder to elbow, and I thrilled at the touch. It sent electricity through me. I wanted to step into his embrace, so I curled my toes in my shoes, trying to anchor myself in place. "I… realized that I didn't want it to happen that way."

I swallowed again, feeling dizzy with the restraint it required to keep me from falling against his chest. "Oh." I said, because it was the only word I could get to cross my lips coherently. He smiled, his warm hands pausing at my elbows.

"I… didn't want you to be able to say that you didn't want it too. …Sara, we both know you wanted it."

"I stepped away." I replied stubbornly. He sighed, dropping my arms.

"You did. …Because you don't cheat. You don't cheat, but you spend every moment you're not with him, with me. You don't cheat, but you've lied to him about how you know me, when you see me, and what our relationship is. You don't cheat, Sara Sidle, but you flirt and you toy… you admit attraction and jealousy and uncertainty. …You tell me things that you have no business telling a casual acquaintance. You react to my most innocent touches like a lover in the throes of passion. Sara… you might not have kissed me, but you are not innocent."

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to scream in his face, unleash the full force of my temper against him, rail against him for daring to accuse me of being disloyal when I had tried very hard to avoid even speaking to him. I was loyal! I loved Jace! I… I was so angry! I stepped forward, to do what I'm not exactly sure, along the way my right hand lifted, it's a good bet to say I had every intention of slapping him across the face for his words. But in my anger, I overestimated the space between us. The step I took brought me flush against his chest and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his arms snaked around my waist and held me tight to him.

The fight went out of me in a moment and I slumped against him, miserable and trying desperately to fight back the tears that were now pricking the back of my eyes and welling up. His large hands sprawled across my back, moving up my spine and soothing me, and before I knew it I was gripping his shoulders desperately and sobbing against his shoulder, uncontrollably.

I had not chosen this. I didn't want to meet someone who would make me doubt everything I was so very certain of. I didn't want to betray Jace or sneak around or lie, and I didn't want to feel so… conflicted. I wanted to know what I wanted and where I was going and have that be enough… I wanted to be content with Jace, because that was so much easier. I wanted to tell Dr. Grissom to go to hell.

Instead, I clung to him like a child, trying to gain control over my helpless tears and the sobs wracking my body, while he slowly and gently moved his palms up and down my back, bringing more comfort than I knew what to do with. It was several minutes before the anguish slowed and he was able to pull back enough to murmur softly to me, "Sara… Come on, honey, back to the bench…"

He guided me slowly back to where his briefcase still resided and set me down, keeping close to me, my hands gripping his shirt like a lifeline. He sat beside me and wrapped his arms around me, tugging me tightly to him and holding me in what must have been the safest, warmest, most comforting embrace I had ever experienced. I sighed softly before hiccupping against his shoulder, and his hands continued moving over my back until he thought I was calm enough for him to pull back and look at my face, gently.

"…I'm sorry, Sara."

I looked up at him in surprise. "…Why are you sorry?"

"…I did this. That night at the bar, you were…happy. Sara, you were… vibrant. Since I've entered your life, you haven't been sleeping, you have bags under your eyes… you're stressed and frowning and… crying, honey. I don't want to make you cry." At his words, he gently slid his thumbs over my cheekbones, wiping away any remaining moisture there.

I shivered at the action, wanting with a longing deep within me—deep in my chest and in my stomach and between my thighs—to lean in and take what he had denied me. I wanted to press my lips to his, to see if he would taste as good as he smelled—clean and warm and masculine, with a hint of excitement. I wanted to drag my tongue over the crease of his lips, feel him gasp and respond to me, feel the inside of his mouth and the press of his hands and the pressure of his breath as it came fast and heavy against my aching flesh.

I leaned forward, unconsciously, and though he didn't back away from me, his voice stopped me, soft and slow and gentle, almost a whisper, and filled with pain. "…Don't, Sara."

I stopped, searching his eyes for understanding. He sighed softly. "You… you're too honest. You have too acute a sense of guilt. You'll do it and then regret it… run from me… and if you don't confess it to Jace, you'll go through with the marriage simply because of that guilt. If you do confess it, he will either leave you or forgive you. If he leaves you, you'll blame me. If he forgives you, that guilt will kick in again… you'll feel like you owe him, and you'll marry him. …If you marry him, honey… don't think about me, think about yourself. If you marry him, make sure it's because it's what you want."

I shook my head feebly, feeling like having been denied the kiss twice, I now had a gaping hole within me. "I… I don't know what I want. I… Everything is a mess! One minute I'm certain that even seeing you again is not only bad for me, but the very last thing I even want… and the next minute I can't tear myself away from you, drawn to like… magnetism. Like gravity."

His eyes lit up again, and he gripped my arms just below my shoulders almost fiercely. "Don't you think that means something, Sara?"

I felt my eyes crinkle and tried to fight back the onslaught of grief again. "I don't know!" I wailed, and the light fell from his face. He sighed, a quiet, desperate sound, and leaned forward to kiss my forehead softly, making me gasp and shiver despite the innocence of the gesture. Soft, delicate, loving kisses like that… just the thought of them falling across my body in places both intimate and chaste, had me breathing fast and deep. He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Sara. …I… have to stop doing this to you. Marry Jace."

He got up and moved away from me, a stifled sob marking his retreat, and I had not strength to chase him. I crumpled on the bench, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to keep from crying out loud now, all alone on the bench on campus. I waited until I had calmed enough to draw myself up and make the trek back towards the lecture hall and my vehicle.

I managed to control my emotions long enough to make the drive home, and I was surprised but relieved to find Jace gone. There was a note on the fridge—he'd gone to the library to work on his thesis. I panicked, briefly, knowing he had been on campus… but he'd written a time on the bottom of the note. Less than fifteen minutes previous… we had probably passed each other on our way.

I trudged into the bedroom and stripped out of my clothing, feeling like it was heavy and dirty… tainted with the stains of my uncertainty and the embraces of a man who was not mine to embrace. I crawled into bed, shivering despite the heat of the day, and curled up and cried. I cried and cried for Dr. Grissom and for Jace and for myself… for my indiscretions and my inadequacies and my inability to simply know what I wanted and pursue it.

I cried until my breast and throat ached, until my eyes were thick and heavy and swollen, my face raw… and finally, finally, slept.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry, I had no time to proof-read. Thanks, as always, for the reviews, and enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty Four:

She had smelled sweet.

My entire being—not just my whole body, my mind and heart, but my very soul ached with the knowledge that I had been pressed against her, my lips poised to press against hers, and yet I had not. I didn't even have that to take with me, when I left.

And I would leave. I knew that now.

I knew that Sara was confused, and frantic, and afraid. I knew that she had a very safe world before I came along, and I could guess how valuable that was to someone who had grown up the way she had. She had told me, when speaking of her first time, that she'd had low self-esteem. She'd been self-destructive. She had liked the man and allowed him to more or less use her, because of these things.

If I had to hypothesize, I would say that she genuinely loved Jace, but not the way she ought to. Not the way you should feel about someone when you're promising your whole life away to them. …She had probably found him attractive but steered clear of him because she was avoiding the type of man she typically found herself drawn to… Men like her first, intelligent and troubled and who would use her. When she discovered that the only one of these traits the man possessed was intelligence… she had probably thought she'd broken her pattern… found the one man she could love and who could love her, who would never hurt her. She probably felt like she was getting more than she deserved.

There was a part of me that wanted her to see this. A big part. I wanted her to address the reasons why, if he was so perfect for her, she had sobbed in my arms for nearly twenty minutes because she wanted me so badly and yet could not bear to hurt him. …I knew, though, that this was far too big a thing to address in three days. And I knew that Sara would rather give up her own happiness than hurt someone, especially if she felt like she hadn't deserved him in the first place.

Bringing all of this up would not change her mind—she was going to marry him, no matter what I did. I should have seen that from the beginning, but I was foolishly hopeful. The only thing I could do now was… leave her in peace to convince herself that she wanted to marry him, or cause her doubts and heartache and misery up until the point that she married him anyway.

I wanted her to be happy.

So I would go.

But I would have the week with her, if she was still willing to spend time with me. I could walk away from her, the way I had today, concealing my emotions. I could do it and I would, because it was what she needed of me… but I needed just a little more time with her. Time to soak up the beauty of the way the sunlight filtered through her hair and way her eyes lit up when she was inspired. The quirk of her lips when she teased me or the sly smirk when she discovered some sneaky morsel of truth I had not meant to reveal about myself.

I was surprised she hadn't figured Susan out yet. Thankful, but surprised.

Time to watch the way her willowy frame swayed when she walked, and the confidence her gait took on when she thought she had bested me in a challenge of wits. Time to learn each line of her face and to memorize the shape of her body for lonely, future imaginings… because I knew that she would haunt me, for the rest of my life. I knew it, and so I would have to prepare. Store up as much information as possible.

Catalogue the precise feel of her hair as it swept over my arms as they wrapped around her lithe figure, tracing the knobs of her spine and the expanse of her shoulder blades under her thin top. Take in the fruity scent of her shampoo, the clean smell of her soap, the warm and homey smell of her skin, the floral scent of her deodorant. Her arms under my palms had been so soft and slender… I had trembled at the sheer power she had over me as I gripped her beneath the shoulders and had images flashing in my mind of holding her just so, but closer to me, underneath me, all around me, moving with me in a slow and sensuous rhythm.

And yet all this I knew was still not enough. I did not know all of her laughs or the deepest colors in her eyes or the story behind why she had never gotten braces to correct the diastema that I found so strangely alluring. I didn't know the weight of her breasts in my hand or the feel of her mouth on mine, or the utopia of sliding between her thighs and becoming one with her. I didn't know the way she would sound, the way she would move… the spots that were sensitive and the positions she preferred and the things she disliked.

I didn't know if she had an innie or an outie… I didn't know if she'd ever had her ears pierced. I didn't know if she wore contacts or if she liked to play any sports or if she had ever been in a school play.

These details were vitally important, and I would discover as many of them as I could (though certainly not the ones I was most anxious for) in the next few days… and then on Friday, I would catch the standby flight if I could, because I didn't trust myself not to go to her wedding. My mere presence there would not be helpful… not be what she needed. I would leave and I would have the tiny moments to sustain me—the twinkle in her eyes and the catch of her breath before a laugh and the tilt of her head in a question.

I wasn't sure if I should call, tonight, or if Jace would be home. I wasn't sure if she would want to talk with me. But if she did and if he was… I had to see her.

So despite agonizing over the decision for nearly an hour, around eight thirty I tremblingly dialed her number, listening to it ring and ring and ring. I had called at this time thinking that it was late enough for Jace to likely be gone, but if he were not working, early enough to not raise suspicions. I was about to hang up, thinking she would not answer, when the ringing stopped. I held my breath.

"Hello?" Oh god. It was Jace's voice. I panicked briefly, but pulled it under control. I had to, for her.

"Hi, I'm looking for Sara Sidle." There… professional. Indifferent.

"I'm sorry but she's unavailable at the moment. Can I take a message?"

I cleared my throat. "This is Dr. Grissom. Sara had asked some follow up questions after my lecture today and I wasn't entirely sure of some of the answers. I just wanted to call her and let her know what I had found out." I prayed that he was disinterested enough in forensics to want to avoid asking specifically what I had to tell her. …I didn't have anything.

Luck was on my side. He paused, and then, "Dr. Grissom… this is Jace. We met the other day."

I smiled. "Hello. How have you been?"

"Good, good. …Listen, uh…This is going to sound like a strange proposition but… Would you take Sara out to eat, tonight?"

I blinked. She was unavailable, but I ought to be taking her out? I swallowed. "I… don't understand."

He sighed heavily and his voice lowered. "Truth be told, I… I'm worried about her. She's been asleep since early afternoon and she won't even get up to eat. Sara… I know you don't know her very well, but when she gets like this… nothing really helps except intellectual pursuits. A new article or theory or discovery. I was thinking… she won't get up for me, but she'd probably get up, function, and eat if there was the opportunity to hear some of that follow up. I know how she hates unanswered questions and… I mean, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. You were going to grab lunch to talk forensics the other day so I thought… it was worth a shot."

My head was literally spinning. Yes! I wanted to scream… but I bit my bottom lip, forcing hesitation. "I… I guess. I mean, I'd be happy to help but… I'm not really sure if she would want to. She doesn't know me very well…"

Jace beamed—I could hear it through the phone. "She'll want to. You have no idea how she idolizes you. She talked about one of your articles about a year ago for… months. Here, I'm gonna go wake her up, tell her she has a phone call. You ask… just ask… if she wants to grab dinner while you go over those follow up questions. Thank you so much, Dr. Grissom."

I frowned, but murmured some response and listened as he gently roused her and then she sleepily picked up the phone, her voice thick with sleep.

"…H'lo?"

"Sara?"

"Dr. Grissom?" She sounded surprised and worried, but not enough to draw suspicion. It was probably good, anyway, that she sound surprised.

"Sara, uh…" I wasn't sure if Jace could hear me, but I also didn't want her to say anything that would give us away. I cleared my throat again. "I… looked into those questions you asked me, today, after class, about timeline regression in… less-than-ideal conditions." I could almost see her sleepy and puzzled face, and I hoped she was catching on. "I was thinking that we could grab dinner and discuss it in… more detail."

Her voice was uncertain. "I… I don't know. Jace…"

I heard him chime in. "Don't worry about me, hon. I'll go in and get some extra work done."

"Your parents come tomorrow," she said, away from the phone.

"I won't stay super late. Home by one, cross my heart."

"O-kay…" Her voice became more clear as the phone was closer to her face. "I, uh… Yeah, that'd be good, Dr. Grissom."

"I'll pick you up in half an hour?"

"Sure."

I waited, and when she didn't seem to notice the problem, "So, uh… I'll need your address." I said, reminding her that I wasn't supposed to know where she lived. Hopefully Jace would assume it was her sleepiness.

"Oh. Right." She rattled off the address and I made it sound like I was writing it down, repeating it back and asking a question about the exit… and then hanging up the phone.

…I could not believe that had just happened.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Wow! Lol, you guys didn't like that last chapter, huh? :)

Maybe this one will make up for it. ...But probably not. Let me know what you think! (You always do... :P) (No, really, I love it, please don't stop. ...I'm crazy about my reviews. Hehe.)

Oh, and Go Twins! :) 8-3!! (Channeling my inner-Grissom again.) (I'm very amused with parenthesis today...)

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Chapter Twenty Five:

I wasn't sure what to think. I climbed out of bed, changed into clean clothes, and ran a brush through my tangled curls before throwing them up in a ponytail. Had Dr. Grissom asked Jace if I could have dinner? That seemed… strange. But Jace had known what he was asking, despite being unable to hear his words. I had a strange, sneaking suspicion that he had orchestrated this… but that was so… strange. I mean, it wasn't like he hadn't done anything like this before… when I had gotten the call from the prison that my mother had died, I had more or less stopped functioning. He had tried to get me involved in activities, take me out… other things. When it hadn't worked, he'd called Kyleigh and Michelle and Rachel and asked them to drag me out for a girls' night, sneakily.

I had agreed after much goading, because I didn't want to tell them why I was really upset, and to some extent it had worked. Sometimes just getting out and about and forcing yourself to function helped you work through the pain. I wasn't better, but I stopped spending my days in bed.

But asking Dr. Grissom was much stranger. Sure, he'd told me to be his friend and yeah, usually I'd jump at the chance to talk forensics with one of the foremost experts in the country, no matter who they were… but it was different. Going to lunch spontaneously when questions seemed endless was different than calling for a dinner date to follow up on questions that Jace didn't know weren't real. Maybe it wouldn't have been so strange if Jace was going with us or… or if Dr. Grissom was a friend more than an acquaintance and were in town for a while… then a dinner date seemed to make sense. Then, it seemed innocent.

Now, it seemed crazy.

Jace had changed into his work clothes and kissed me deeply right before leaving. The knock that came at the door interrupted us, and as he was the one standing beside where I sat on the couch, he pulled from me and went to answer the door.

"Dr. Grissom," he greeted him warmly and offered his hand. Dr. Grissom took it with a smile that gave nothing away.

"Jace. Nice to see you again."

"You too." He glanced over his shoulder at me, and then stepped back and let Dr. Grissom inside. He hesitated, and then stepped over the threshold. Jace left the door open and moved over to me, kissing me gently again. "I love you. See you tonight."

"Bye honey." He tossed me a grin, shook Dr. Grissom's hand again, and then stepped out of the door, closing it behind him.

I stared at my knees, the awkwardness in the room palpable. He sought to break the tension.

"So… this is home." I turned to look at him and he shrugged. "Nice place."

I swallowed, trying and failing to keep the bite out of my voice. "…Would you like the tour? I can show you the bed where I sleep with my fiancé." I said, feeling spiteful and out of place. Something just wasn't right about this.

His features twitched, revealing pain and then quickly covering it with a wry smile. "No, I think I can live without ever seeing that. …Should we get something to eat?"

So I stood up and followed him out, locking the door behind me, feeling like I was viewing everything through glazed eyes. Once in his passenger seat, I numbly asked him. "…Did he ask you to do this?"

He pulled out of his parking spot and sped up. "…Yeah. But I don't think I'm supposed to tell you that. …I… found it very… strange."

I snorted. "No kidding."

He hesitated and then… "Do you think he knows?"

"No." I said, thinking that he would have confronted me, certainly. He didn't speak again, so the drive to the restaurant was silent, giving me too much time to consider whether I was absolutely sure he didn't know… or suspect. Would he confront me? If not, what would be the point and purpose of having me go out with the man? How did it benefit him to have me out with the person who was his biggest threat? What could possibly be gained by me gallivanting off, exploring my feelings for another man?

I actually jerked my head back in surprise when I realized. It hit me like a bucket of cold water from behind. He either knew or suspected I had feelings for Dr. Grissom… and he _did_ want me to explore them. He didn't want me to marry him unless I was sure, so… he was giving me the opportunity to be sure.

My head was spinning with those thoughts. …Was that crazy? Was I trying to fit his actions into a theory simply because this felt so strange? He certainly hadn't behaved as if he were suspicious or jealous or threatened. He had been the picture of calm. He had kissed me before he left, but not aggressively or possessively to lay his claim in front of Dr. Grissom.

No, surely I was crazy. I had been woken up from the first time I'd slept more than an hour or so in days, and I hadn't eaten since the night before. My brain could not be firing at full power. I shook the thought away and glanced over at him.

"You look nice."

And he did. Jeans and a short-sleeve button down. Simple, casual, but nice. Very nice. He blushed.

"Thank you… So do you."

I snorted again. "I rolled out of bed just before you came…"

"I know." He said softly, and parked the car. "Jace said he was worried about you… When's the last time you ate?"

I frowned. "I'm about to eat now."

He frowned, too. We moved inside and he told them there were two in our party, and we waited five minutes to be seated, once again in silence. We had not been so quiet with one another since we'd met. I swallowed as soon as we were seated, looking at him across the table and our menus, open to give us something to do. "…I'm really sorry. About… today."

He shook his head, slowly. "No, Sara. I… I'm really sorry about… this whole week."

I frowned. "I… don't understand."

At that moment our waitress arrived, inquiring what we'd like to drink. We ordered, and she swept away, and I sighed. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

He didn't say anything, at first, and then he lifted his gaze from the table to my face with something close to urgency. "…Do you have an innie or an outie?"

I blinked. And then laughed. "What?!" He grinned, giving me a knowing smile. I raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want to know about my bellybutton?"

He smirked. "I do. …I want to know everything."

I tilted my head at him. "What do you want to know?"

He pursed his lips. "Why physics?" I opened my mouth to respond, but he spoke before I could. "Not… you know, why in the general sense. Why does it interest you, on a deeper level?"

I took the time to think about his question, the waitress coming and taking our order while I thought. "I suppose… Understanding the nature of the world… the way things work… makes me feel more in control of the world around me. If you understand the mysteries of the world, there's nothing out there that can surprise you."

"Do you play any sports?"

I laughed again. "What?"

"Sports. Do you play any?"

I smirked. "No. I… was a pretty good swimmer. I wanted to be on the swim team but… I didn't want to ask my foster parents. I thought it would be… an expense and an inconvenience. …I love to run though."

"What else?"

I frowned. "What is this about?"

"I told you. I want to know everything. …Were you ever in choir or a school play?"

I huffed, but smiled despite myself. "I was Little Red Riding Hood in fifth grade."

He grinned. "Really?"

I blushed. "Yes, really! I mean, it was a play where all the fairy tale characters kind of interacted… like I waved to Hansel and Gretel on my way to Grandma's… stuff like that, so, I mean, none of the parts were very big."

"I can just imagine you… small, with big cheeks and big eyes, the red cape framing the curls around your face…"

I blushed brighter. "Were you in any school plays?"

"I was Robin Hood in eighth grade."

I felt my face light up as I imagined a thirteen year old boy with blonde curls in green tights. "Did you have to wear—"

"Tights? No. Thankfully. I had green pants…"

I grinned anyway. He would have been so cute…

"Are you really an environmentalist?" He asked, as the food was placed before us and, "Do you have any tattoos?" as we began to eat. These were followed by, "Where is your favorite place in the world to be?" and "What would you do with a million dollars?" and "What is your favorite book/movie/TV Show/food/band/play…"

By the time he was paying the check, the first time he'd paid since I'd hustled him at pool, I felt like I'd been talking for hours…like there was very, very little the man did not know about me. And while this would normally have made me feel exposed, it didn't. It just felt… nice.

Outside the restaurant, I turned to him and lifted my shirt just far enough for him to see my bellybutton, an innie. The way his jaw dropped and his eyes glazed over… made me feel powerful. Sexy. …Jace almost always wanted me, but he was… used to me. My bellybutton didn't do crazy things to his features anymore, because, after all, he'd seen it a thousand times. I flushed with pleasure at his reaction and slid into the car.

The ride home turned into a discussion of everything I'd ever wanted to be 'when I grew up' and why. A marine biologist because I loved the ocean and animals, a teacher because my teachers were always so nice to me, a chocolate-maker because I was convinced that I would just get to eat everything I made… A professional surfer, because the idea of spending my life on the beach would be a dream come true, and if you were good enough, you could make enough money to travel the world… surf the most exotic beaches.

He pulled up outside our apartment, and I glanced around for Jace's car. He was still at work. I glanced at Dr. Grissom. "Sara…"

"Do you want to come in for some coffee? Jace will be home soon, but I'm sure he won't mind…" Was I sure? I glanced at the clock. It wasn't that late.

He shook his head slowly, and took my hand in his. "I… I've been thinking." I looked at him curiously, and he smiled a little sadly. "You asked me today about… Susan. You… asked if I were still in love with her."

I felt the breath tight in my chest. I swallowed, nodding, watching him, trying to remain calm. It shouldn't matter to me one way or the other whether he as in love with her or not.

"I… I think I am."

I felt myself deflate. I felt his words like a blow to my chest. I felt the light leave my eyes. "Oh."

He cleared his throat. "Not that… my attraction to you… isn't real, but… but you were right. I'm not over her and… at this point, I'm not sure I ever will be. …So, I… You shouldn't leave Jace. You should marry him, because I… My heart belongs to her, still. I… could never love you the way he does."

I had tears in my eyes, but I wasn't sure if they were from grief or anger. For the second time today, I wanted to strike him. He had come into my life, complicated everything, and now I knew… it was for nothing. All my agonizing for… nothing. I should have expected as much. Jace was the only man who had never disappointed me. I blinked furiously and swung the door open.

"Well, good. …I… I'm glad you know where you stand now. I… I was never going to leave Jace anyway, so… good. We're both… good, now."

He held my hand tightly, preventing me from flinging myself from the car and running away from the pain he had just inflicted but which I had no right to have. "…I… would really like to… stay friends, Sara. If we're… both in love with someone else… Then there should be no reason we can't be friends."

I nodded, though I wasn't sure what I was agreeing to. I just wanted to get out of the car. "Great. That's… Yeah, friends. I, um… I'm really tired, Dr. Grissom. I'm… gonna go."

He released me. "Goodnight, Sara."

I was out of the car in a moment, calling goodnight over my shoulder and hurrying to my door. I should have known… I should have expected as much… I should never have doubted Jace.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: It's a little short, but I'm still making some decisions about Sara's side of this, so I held off. Sorry it's coming so late in the day--busy morning. I got to go shopping for my birthday (The fiance and I pick our own presents... Lol), and then tonight we're going out for it sooo if I update again today, it'll be late-ish.

Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews! Sorry to everyone who was mad at Grissom for that...this chapter isn't going to help...

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Chapter Twenty Six:

I thought I had convinced her. She had acted convinced… hurt… She had acted like my words would be enough to make certain she would walk happily down the aisle to Jace and the life she deserved. I was certain that I would not see her in my lectures on Thursday morning, because she had been angry and because I knew Jace's parents were coming into town today. And she wasn't in the first few… around noon I saw her slide into a seat in the back, just as I was beginning.

It startled me… confused me… unsettled me. My hands were trembling as I gestured, perhaps too largely, while speaking. She didn't come down between that lecture and my last, but she did come down when I was done. I put my hands in my pockets, because I didn't know what to do with them. My palms were sweaty, my mouth dry.

"Sara."

"Dr. Grissom."

I frowned at that. I had stopped trying to correct her, but I still would have preferred she use my given name. "I… didn't expect to see you today."

She gave me a half smile. "I didn't plan to come. …I… don't believe you."

My eyebrows shot up. "You… Excuse me?"

"You told me that it hurt to talk about her, but instead of letting me simply be jealous of that, explained that you just saw it as a stupid mistake. If you were honest at first, why not just let me be jealous? At the time, you thought you wanted me… Why wouldn't you let me be jealous? You wanted to reassure me that you were no longer in love with her. And then last night, you spend the majority of the night questioning me about details no one in their right mind should care about, and acting as if my responses are vital. If you loved her, you wouldn't care so much about me."

I leaned my head back slowly, taking the time to think over her words and gather my thoughts. "Sara, honey… I don't want to hurt you. Please believe me when I say that—"

"No. You're lying because…" She frowned. "I don't know. Some twisted sense of martyrdom. You'll lie and hurt yourself because you think that the best thing for me is to marry Jace and be sure about him."

"And it isn't? Sara, you told me yesterday that you'd never had any intention of leaving him."

"Because of what you said! I…" The corners of her beautiful mouth turned down. "I was trying to… hurt you… as much as you hurt me."

I shook my head slowly. "Sara… I was trying to reassure myself as much as you that I wasn't still in love with her. I told you last night, the attraction I feel for you is real… but I can't ever give you my whole heart, and you deserve better than that, even at my expense. I was being honest, honey, when I told you that. I… wanted to learn everything about you, because I had been doubting myself all day, since we'd had the conversation about her and your jealousy. I thought… the only reason I doubted in the first place was because I didn't know you all that well yet. I thought… if I could learn the ins and outs of who you are, she wouldn't even enter into the picture anymore, but…"

She looked down and to the side, nodding slowly. "But… she does. Despite knowing about my bellybutton and what I'd do with a million dollars."

There was the space of a heartbeat in which I hesitated, unwilling to send her away from me once again. I paused, the truth poised on my lips beside the lie, but I loved her… I couldn't believe that I had fallen in love with anyone so quickly, but I had and I did and I knew that I always would… so I made her happy. "Yes. …She does. I'm… sorry, Sara."

She shrugged. "It's fine. We… can just be friends now. It's better this way."

I nodded, slowly. "I… I want to be friends. I… If you'd be okay with that… We should stay in touch."

She nodded. "We should. Listen… Jace's parents are flying in tonight so I've got to…" She gestured over her shoulder.

"Right. …You don't want to upset the future in-laws."

"Yeah…" She gave me a sad smile. "I… I'm glad I met you, Dr. Grissom. I'm sorry about…"

I shook my head. "No, please… don't be sorry. _I_'m sorry."

She shook her head too. "We're both sorry then. Let's, uh… just put this behind us. We can have a… professional relationship. …Email me."

God, that felt so empty. Empty, but more than I had hoped for. "Yeah. I… I will."

She nodded, turned, and left me… and I gathered up my things and headed back to the hotel, planning to eat alone and go to sleep early, alone, and force my way through the last day before I could catch a standby flight. Once in Vegas, I could bury myself in work… come up with projects and maybe purchase some new pets… train some new racing cockroaches or buy Stevie a girlfriend.

Although, I didn't think I could handle him getting some when I would be perpetually lonely.

I didn't eat, and I didn't sleep, and I didn't head back to the bar I had met her in to drink myself into a stupor and find someone who would let me take them back here and pretend they were her… though I was sincerely tempted towards the latter…

I curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling, and allowed myself to imagine her. Not just her body, though I knew, of course, how this would end. I imagined what meeting her could have been like, if she'd been single. I imagined taking her home from the bar or at least beginning a long seduction that night… I imagined seeing her the next day in my lecture and the joy that would be mixed with the surprise of seeing one another again.

I imagined the next night at the bar, playing pool, and wondered whether I would have been nearly so bold if she hadn't been engaged. I imagined wining and dining her, slow dancing with her, kissing her heatedly at the door to the apartment she would live in alone, and it taking everything in me to decline her invitation that I come inside. I imagined worrying about her living there alone, and marveling at her intelligence, and falling for her more slowly… more honestly. I imagined her falling for me, and admitting it.

I imagined losing my control late in the week, yesterday or today, after having dropped her off. I imagined the kiss outside her door going on and on, my hands in her hair and my senses overloaded with her, and the sounds that came bubbling up from the back of her throat so temptingly. I imagined her struggling to unlock the door with my hands around her waist, my lips on her neck… imagined pressing her against the wall in the entryway, once again causing her to moan.

I imagined how we would struggle to make it to the bedroom she would occupy alone without ever breaking contact with one another, the taste of her filling me up as her hands moved everywhere, the indescribable sounds slipping between our lips freely. I imagined her saying something clever and dry and sarcastic and me kissing the smirk off her face, tipping her back onto the mattress with even force to cause her to cry out, at first in surprise and then in pleasure, because I would be hovering above her, one hand sliding from her stomach down to between her beautiful thighs, pressing softly and teasingly at first.

I imagined how she would be impatient, begging me… and how sweet it would be to give in… I imagined the sound of her coming and the feel of her body as it writhed, and the lazy, exhausted, sated way she would kiss me when I finally pulled my hand and mouth away from her, my penis taking their place. I imagined the tender way in which she would open herself to me, and the absolutely reverent way in which I would take her, and I imagined the slow and steady rhythm we would set, caring more about exploring one another than meeting our eventual ends.

And when we came—when I gave in and let myself go, alone in my hotel room, groaning her name to the empty air—it was explosive… like nothing either of us had ever dreamed of. Like night and day and light and dark and truth and lies were all redefined, the world an entirely different place because of our connection.

I cried, when I fell asleep, holding my pillow in my arms instead of her slender frame. I knew I had done the right thing, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. Every piece of me hurt.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Yay! Earlier than I expected. (We had to hurry home to check the Twins score... -rolls eyes-) Anywho, you guys really aren't going to like me after this. :) I promise, there will be a GSR happy ending. It's all I do.

For those who have asked, I have no idea how long this will be. I'm posting it, most times, immediately after I finish writing.

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Chapter Twenty Seven:

I was hurt, but I didn't cry... I got mad. I had a terrible temper. Wednesday night, I stormed around the apartment, waiting for Jace to get home… and when he did, I had to hide it while we went to bed, but I didn't stop being angry, and I didn't stop thinking about it.

I left the next morning, so Jace wouldn't ask any questions… but I didn't go to Dr. Grissom's lectures. I wasn't going to continue to hang on his every word when he had deceived me… misrepresented himself… put me through so much hell and for nothing. I went to the beach, instead. Not one of the tourist beaches, but one that was rocky and steep, the waves perpetually white as they broke over the black crags. I sat on one of the rocks, close enough to feel the spray in my face when the waves would break, but far enough to stay mostly dry.

The sky was cloudy, and that was appropriate.

It just… it didn't seem right. His behavior did not match his words. He hadn't acted like he was still in love with her except… except for the moments in which we'd talked about her. Hadn't he said it hurt to talk about her? No, he'd corrected himself, when I'd admitted to being jealous, saying that he just viewed it as a stupid mistake. …Which were true? If he didn't want me, why reassure me that there was nothing to be jealous of? That he was all mine, if I wanted him, when he knew that to be false?

It had taken me fifteen minutes to climb down to this point, and I made it back to my car in less than five, no worse for the wear except for a scrape on the heel of my palm and a banged shin. I took off, towards campus, glancing in surprise at the clock to find that I had been there not minutes but hours. It was going on noon… I sped up, hoping I could get there in time to sneak into his noon lecture before he started.

I hated walking in late.

And once there, I watched how he reacted to seeing me. His voice trembled… his thoughts seemed scattered. There was no way he could argue that he did not want me… that I was not affecting him. When he was done for the day, I went down and confronted him… and within moments, my confidence had once again wilted. Every reason I'd had to doubt him, he'd explained… gently, sweetly, and genuinely. I made my excuses, asked him to email me… and left.

I met Jace at the house with just minutes to spare before we had to go pick up his parents.

"Honey?"

"In here." He came out of the bedroom, dressed in a polo and khaki pants—strange for him. He was a strictly jeans and a t-shirt kind of guy. I smiled.

"You think that if you show up dressed up, your mom won't try to get you to cut your hair?" He didn't have long hair—only a few inches, so that a few strands feel sexily over his forehead. I liked to tease him that he was going for the 'Uncle Jesse' look, but his mother thought it made him look like a 'hooligan.' You know, either/or.

He grinned, pulling me close and kissing me deeply. "That's the plan. Do you think she'll fall for it?"

"Not a chance. …But please, don't let her cut it super short before the wedding…"

His smile was even brighter after that, which struck me as strange. "I won't, I promise… You ready?"

"Give me a minute to run a brush through my hair," I said, thinking of the tangles I was certain to have from sitting out on the beach today, and hurried into the bedroom to grab a fresh shirt and then into the master bathroom to try to make my hair presentable. "Ready!"

We hurried out, and the drive to the airport was… surprisingly comfortable. We were talking about how excited we were for the wedding and… no longer having a third option… being left to either marry him or not, and be alone… it was easy to be excited. It was the first time I felt excited about the wedding since the night of my bachelorette party. It made me smile, to feel so confident about it again. Things were fine… they were going to be wonderful. Really.

His mother was a… loud woman. A little overbearing, a little demanding, but she had a good heart. We got along, as long as I bit my tongue, and often. But they lived across the country, so it was an easy thing to do for a few days at a time. As far as mothers-in-law went, I had gotten lucky. Michelle and Kyleigh hated each other's mothers, and their mothers both hated their daughter's partner… not because they were partners, but just because. But, I suppose women were like that. We're far more judgmental of each other than of men. If I had a daughter who was a lesbian, chances were I'd never approve of any woman she brought home.

His father was a quiet man who smiled freely and liked to give hugs, especially to me. Jace hadn't shared the gory details of my past with them, but they knew that I'd been in foster care since I was pretty young, and that my dad wasn't the most nurturing of men. He always tried to be fatherly to me because of it.

They hurried over to us, his mother's full bosom nearly knocking me over when she hugged me, and her first words following her greetings were, "Jace Arnold," his father's name, "You look like one of those… _musicians_," she said the word with disdain, and I frowned, realizing she meant 80's hair bands… It was 1998.

He hugged her. "It's so good to see you too, Mom." She huffed but smiled—who could help it when Jace was grinning like a little boy like he was. His father hugged me next, a warm, all-encompassing thing, and I returned it gladly. "Dad." Jace greeted as he pulled away from me, and the men went through the posturing of offering each other a hand shake and letting it turn into a reluctant hug.

Machoism. Ugh.

I gave up the front seat to his mother once we'd picked up their baggage, and the drive to their hotel was short. We accompanied them up to get settled, and then were finally all back in Jace's car, headed to a restaurant, his mother going on and on in the front seat about the exhaustive list of tasks we would need to complete the next day at the break of dawn. Jace interrupted her.

"Mom, you know that Sara has morning lectures. After lunch you guys can worry about the details…" She grumbled something about a wedding being more important than _some lecture_, but Jace shook his head, laughter in his voice. "Well, that's why I'm not marrying you, Mom. I _like_ that Sara is so passionate about her education and her job."

I beamed at that, and he tossed me a smile over his shoulder while his dad placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. See what I mean? There's just something about women…

The evening at the restaurant was a struggle, his mother wanting to go over every minute detail of the wedding. I had had only a few requirements—it had to work within Jace and I's budget, all the flowers must be real, and the minister had to be as gender equal as possible… the vows the exact same and none of this 'man and wife' stuff. _Husband and Wife._ It was the only way I could get over the whole concept of marriage being a property exchange, with me as the property.

His mother had chosen calla lilies, which I didn't particularly like, but I didn't hate them, and they would all be real. We were getting married in the church Jace had grown up in, with a minister who understood my specific requirements about language, and the reception would be in a local hotel's ballroom. Dinner included the generic chicken and beef options, the DJ was cheap, the photographer expensive, and favors abundant and unnecessary… but I was going to marry a man who was good to me, and who would love me more than anyone else, his whole life long.

That was what was important.

It was with relief that I rose from the table at the end of the meal and followed my future in-laws back out to the car to drop them off at their hotel. Jace was supposed to have the night off, and when we curled up in bed and his broad hands started moving over my back, I welcomed it. I wanted to feel loved and desired… I wanted to feel how much he needed me and to know that I mattered.

Before we could do more than let our kissing get heated, however, the phone was ringing. We ignored it, but when it rang again, he pulled away, worrying it was his parents. When he answered and it was his boss, Al, he simply said, "I said I couldn't work tonight," and hung up the phone. I was thrilled with that, and we did our best to ignore the phone the third, fourth, and fifth times it rang… but on the sixth, with a frustrated groan, he broke from me and answered abruptly, "What?!"

After a moment he closed his eyes in frustration. "It should be in the drawer with all the other records, Al."

I sat up, letting my breathing slow.

"Al, my parents are in town." He said, trying to make his excuses, but after another long moment.

"No, you don't need to stay. I'll come in and find it, but you are not allowed to call me for the next week after this, do you understand?"

Al apparently apologized, because Jace rolled his eyes and said, "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to my bride who never sees me anymore."

Al said something, and Jace rolled his eyes, glancing at me and passing me the phone. "He actually wants to apologize to you."

I sighed, taking the phone with Jace got up to get dressed in his work clothes.

"Hey Al."

"Hey sweetheart. I'm really sorry about this… without that form I can't charge this guy and—"

"I understand." I said, even though I really didn't.

"He's just going to be busy with the wedding, you know, so it's not like I could ask him about it the next time he comes in…"

I chuckled. "I know. No problem, Al, really. I'll see you at the wedding on Saturday, right?"

"Me and the Mrs. We wouldn't miss it for the world."

I grinned. "Thanks. I'll let you go… You're heading home, aren't you?" I asked, glancing at the clock. He rarely stayed late because he had night blindness and his wife had to come pick him up if he was working after dark.

"Yeah, Betty just pulled up. She won't be too happy if I leave her waiting."

I laughed. "Goodnight, Al."

"Night Sar'."

I hung up, and Jace caught my lips the minute I pulled the phone from my ear, bending me back onto the bed with no little amount of passion. It had my eyes rolling back in my head and my breath coming in pants again. He grinned. "We're not done, here… I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay." I smiled at him, watching him go. How on earth could I be confused when I had such a wonderful man who loved me so much?

In fact, I wasn't confused. Moments before, in this bed, I had known exactly what I wanted. In fact, I hadn't thought of Dr. Grissom once. It had been all about Jace… and he was right, we weren't done here.

I leapt out of bed, straightening my clothing and hurrying out to my car. I was only about ten minutes behind him, so hopefully he wouldn't already be headed home when I got there. I sped all the way over to Al's garage, happy see his car parked outside when I pulled up. I hurried in, opening and closing the door behind me as quietly as I could and locking the door. He wasn't in the garage area, but Al had said something about a form, so I headed towards the office.

He was there, looking irritated, digging through piles of paper. I knocked on the door frame and he looked up at me in surprise. "…Hey. What are you doing here?"

I grinned. "I… thought we could finish what we started…"

His eyes were wide. "…Here?"

I grinned. "I couldn't help but notice that hot little red Camaro out there…"

He stood up. "You're not serious…"

I started backing towards the car. "The door is locked. If you turn the lights off, no one would ever know…"

He followed me, his eyes wide. "…Really?"

I grinned. "I figured you'd left me alone in bed often enough this week… it's only fair if I bring the 'bed' to work."

"I… don't have anything." He said, referring to the condoms we'd used ever since I'd stopped taking birth control because the mood swings had been extreme and uncontrollable.

"I don't care."

I slid up, once I reached the car, so that I was sitting on the hood, leaning back on my elbows, my feet braced on the locked garage door right in front of the car. He shook his head. "You know, I never believed the whole 'Mile High Club' story until this moment…"

I grinned. "Turn off the light, and I'll make you a believer."

His eyes flashed, the lights went out, and then he was everywhere, and my body was thrumming with it. I did come, this time, hard and fast, several times, and when he emptied himself inside me and I let myself collapse in sweaty exhaustion against the hood of the car, my only thought was, 'See? ...I am happy.'


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I dont' own.

A/N: So, for those of you getting discouraged, I'm very, very sorry. I hope you can stick it out, because I do promise a GSR happy ending. I will say, though, that whether she marries Jace or not, it's a long time in coming. I'm sorry about that, but gsrmania has demanded lots of 'hot hot hot gsr sex' before the end, and who I am to disappoint? I promise, I'll make it worth your while in the end. :) Lol.

This chapter... is sad. Very sad. I'm sorry about that also. :( Still, it has something everyone's been waiting for, so... read it anyway. Hehe.

Thanks for the reviews (angry though some of them were ;) ) and I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty Eight:

My last lecture had been on Thursday, and though I toyed with the idea of attending some on Friday, just to be on campus and chance running into her, I didn't. I forced myself to take my time with everything—I stayed in bed late, took a long shower, took my time dressing and packing and double-checking the room to be certain I had not left anything behind. I double-checked my wallet, making sure I had Sara's information, though I sincerely didn't want to feel the need to do so.

But eventually I could not redo another thing, and checked out of the hotel, upset to glance at my watch and realize that though I had thought I'd stalled long enough to waste most of the morning, it wasn't yet ten o'clock. I figured I could go to the airport, although the flight I was hoping to catch wasn't until early evening… but somehow, instead, I ended up on campus, sitting on the bench in which she had cried in my arms. It was the closest I had ever been to her… the most I'd ever been allowed to touch her.

Maybe I'd been foolish. Maybe I shouldn't have decided to be the bigger person. Would she have cried like that, if she really would never have left him? I mean, she wasn't acting like she ever would… she was acting like she was just confused, and would marry him either way. The only thing in my control was whether she was happy with that decision.

But maybe not. She had confronted me, called me a liar, and told me she'd only said she had every intention of marrying Jace regardless of having met me was because she wanted to hurt me as much as I'd hurt her, telling her I was still in love with someone else.

When she plopped onto the bench beside me, I was half convinced I was hallucinating her presence there. She tilted her head. "Hi."

I swallowed. "Hi."

"I… thought your flight left today."

"It does. This… evening."

She nodded, slowly. "Are you… here for a lecture?" I shook my head, sadly, lacking the strength to even lie to her at this point. To my surprise, she nodded like she understood. "Yeah… me neither."

I glanced at her in surprise, and she shrugged. "…The in-laws?"

She smirked. "They're a handful. I'm meeting with everyone for lunch but… I just wanted some time alone, this morning."

That single statement, so small… expressed so off-handedly… it gave me a strength of will I had not had a moment before. I turned to her in desperation. "Sara… Sara, I lied to you. I lied when I said I was still in love with her and that I thought you should marry Jace. I didn't think you would leave him, either way, so… I just wanted you to feel happy with the decision. You were right, when you accused me and—"

Her hand fell on my arm and I stopped, breathing heavily, watching her with anxious eyes. "Dr. Grissom… Gil." She said, and my heart leapt into my throat. "…I don't think you really know what you want."

"No, Sara, I—"

"No, you… you can't keep doing this to me. I… I know you never meant to but… this back and forth. How can I not marry a man in order to be with someone who changes his mind about me hourly?"

I shook my head and blinked back tears, hating that they were distracting me from what was quite possibly the most important moment of my life. "Sara, I… I haven't changed. I've wanted you since the very moment I laid eyes on you. Sara, I… I think I fell in love with you, in that single second I saw you in the bar, covered in lifesavers and condoms and just a little bit tipsy. Sara, I… I dream about your bellybutton, sweetheart, and about you surfing the world and as Little Red Riding Hood and…"

She stood up, and there were tears in her eyes as well. "Stop." She half-whispered, her voice tremulous. "This isn't fair… You have to stop. I… I have to stop this."

She turned to walk away from me but I could not just let her go so easily. I couldn't. I leapt to my feet and ran around the bench, catching her before she could move out of the little grouping of climbing trees here. I didn't think about it, and I didn't stop to consider the repercussions… I pressed her back against the trunk of the tree, gently but quickly, and caught her lips in mine with an urgent need. I framed her face in my hands and slid them back to take in the texture of her hair and though her hands remained at her sides, her lips kissed me back. There were tears running down her cheeks, making the kiss wet and salty, and not a little sad, but it filled me up in a way such as I have never known.

I broke the kiss, regretfully, a moment later, and watched her deep brown eyes flutter open, our heavy breathing filling up the space between us. She stared at me for a long moment, and then shook her head, softly. "I… I can't."

She tried to slip away, but I stopped her gently again, cradling her face. She must have thought I meant to kiss her again, because in the softest, most pleading voice I had ever heard, she said, "Please don't…" I swallowed, taking in a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts, because this was my very last chance.

"Sara… I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, my whole life long. I am always going to love you. …Don't walk down that aisle, honey. Don't marry him. …Marry me."

And as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I had dropped to one knee, clutching at her left hand like a lifeline. "Sara Sidle… please, honey… Do me the honor of becoming my wife."

She looked down at me in surprise and… what could only be described as horror. I hoped that was just because I'd confused her again, and not because the idea of marrying me inspired horror. The kiss, in my mind, had been… life-changing. I couldn't believe that she hadn't felt at least some of that. She tugged on my hand, using her right to wipe away tears. "Stand up, Gil. Please…"

I stood, hesitantly, and refused to release her hand. I didn't want this to be over… I didn't want her to tell me no. I couldn't stand the idea of her marrying someone else, no matter how nice he might be. She wiped her eyes again, and swallowed. "I… I just can't do this, right now. I… You can't keep doing this!" She insisted, stomping her foot and looking very much like a child. I wanted to pull her back into my arms and kiss the tears from her face and laugh softly into her hair at how sweet and yet how silly she was. "I… I have to go, Gil. I'm sorry."

She pulled from me, turning and beginning to walk away. "Sara…" She glanced behind herself, almost hesitantly, like she was afraid of what I had to say. "I… I'll be here… until you say 'I do.' I… I love you."

She faced forward again, her back to me, but I heard her response all the same. "…You fly out tonight."

I shook my head, despite her being unable to see it. "No. I… was going to take a standby if I could get it. My original flight is for tomorrow evening. I… I'll be there, tomorrow, at the church… I'm waiting for you, honey, until… the very last moment." My voice broke over the last few words and I breathed in deeply, trying to control myself.

She stood there silently for a long moment in time, punctuated only by my attempts to control my emotion, and then, like watching something terrible about to happen in slow motion, I watched the hesitant and weary shake of her head. "…Don't. …Get on the standby, Dr. Grissom. I… I'm marrying Jace."

She walked away and the force of her words hit me like a blow to the stomach. I fell to my knees with it, hand coming out to brace myself on the tree against which I'd just kissed her, feeling an ache within me so acute that I thought I must surely be dying. This could not be normal… this amount of pain. My heart must be failing.

But my heart did not fail, despite my wishing that it do so and end the pain. Eventually I realized that while there wasn't anyone close by, the campus was still quite populated, and I had enough self-awareness to realize how strange I looked, kneeling with a hand on a tree, sobbing. I rose, trudged to my car, and drove around the city, getting myself lost several times.

I stopped for a peach muffin and coffee at the coffee shop we'd stopped at, and played a game of chess against myself on the pier. I went to the bar, in the middle of the day, but simply sat in the parking lot because it wasn't open yet. And when the time came in which a decision had to be made, I listened to her words. I had laid everything out for her, my feelings raw and exposed in a way they had not been since I was a child, and she had told me without any uncertainty exactly what she intended.

Why put myself through the torture of watching her marry another man?

I returned my rental car, I went through security, I checked my luggage, I bought a new book to read on the plane, and I waited. And as if God were throwing me a proverbial bone, there was one seat on the plane. They called me up for it first… and I sat, still and silent, while the lady at the desk called my name over the speaker… and I couldn't do it. I stood and walked away with only a carry on to get me through the next day. I had said I would wait until the last moment, and I would.

Distantly, I heard my name being announced with the words, 'last call for…' and then another name ringing out.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, I think I was unintentionally unclear with the ending of the last chapter. They were just calling some random other person for the standby seat, and the name ringing out was supposed to be, like... he couldn't change his mind. They did their last call and then moved on, so he was stuck with his decison. Sorry if that was confusing. :( Mea Culpa.

So... after you read this chapter, please remind yourself, once again, that this is a GSR story. I promise. Cross my heart. ...And I very much doubt that it will be twenty chapters before we get there. Ten at the very most, I would guess. And I understand that this story and Viagra are mutally exclusive, however, I make no promises regarding the year. :) (If you don't understand, read the last page or so of reviews... Oh, I love my reviewers and their demands!)

...I'm going to go hide now.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine:

I just didn't think about it.

I went to lunch, I tied ribbons on wedding favors and tried on my dress and fooled around with any number of other exhausting details my mother-in-law-to-be laid before me, and by the time I had to change for the rehearsal dinner, I felt like nothing in the world would make me happier than four shots of tequila and my bed.

We did the rehearsal, we talked to the minister, we went to eat with his parents and our wedding parties… and at the end of the night, after giving a million hugs and smiling for a million pictures, Jace went with his sister, and Rachel, Kyleigh, and Michelle followed me home. Only Rachel was spending the night, but as soon as Kyleigh and Michelle had discovered that none of Jace's sisters would be there, they saw no harm in coming to talk with me.

And once again, I went with it. I laughed, I joked, I teased my friends, never letting them know that I might not be getting exactly what I wanted the next day, because I had so thoroughly convinced myself that it was what I wanted. But when I laid awake in bed, Rachel curled up on Jace's side of the bed, I couldn't help the tears that came.

And Rachel, of course, couldn't help but notice them. Within minutes I had spilled my entire week to her in between sobs and she hugged me and calmed me down, and made me talk reasonably.

"Do you love him, Sara?"

"No! …I don't know!"

"Do you love Jace?"

"Yes! Of course I do!"

"…Well. I mean, doesn't that answer your question?"

I sniffled. "But I keep thinking… I mean, you can love a lot of people without them being 'the one,' you know? What if I love him but… but he's not 'it.'"

She frowned and thought for a moment. "…If Dr. Grissom weren't in the picture, would you still want to wait for 'the one'?"

"N-no." I stuttered out over a sob. She smiled.

"And he said he'd be there tomorrow, right?"

"R-right." God, why couldn't I keep my voice steady?

She shrugged. "If he's there… You pull Jace aside before the ceremony and tell him you're sorry, but you're not sure about this. You take some time to explore what's there with this Dr. Grissom. …You know Jace would take you back if you were honest with him. He's… just that nice of a guy."

I frowned. That seemed… an impossible proposition. "What if… he's not there?"

She gave me a half-smile. "If he's not there, he really isn't Mr. Right, is he? I mean, you said he's gone back and forth how many times… if he can't be sure enough he wants to be with you to simply follow through and do what he said he'd do… he's not the one, sweetie. He's just messing with your head and it'll screw things up with a great guy."

I frowned and stubbornly wiped my eyes. "This doesn't… answer anything. He will be there, I know he will. And then in less than an hour before I'm supposed to walk down the aisle, I'll have to make this life-altering decision."

"Decision made—if he's there, honey, you tell Jace you need time. …You shouldn't marry someone if you're not sure."

I don't know how, but the relief of having a plan lulled me to sleep, and while I had vivid, tangled, confusing dreams that had my stomach churning, I slept through the night, waking to my alarm the next morning… and beginning the mess of pre-wedding preparations.

Despite Rachel's words, I wasn't sure if I would actually cancel the wedding minutes before it was due to begin just because Dr. Grissom was in attendance. I mean, it helped to have a plan… it kept me calm through getting up and ready, going with an entourage of women to get my hair done, doing make up, and driving to the church. Jace's mother was running around, double-checking everything while my bridesmaids and I were dressing. Around three-thirty, Rachel came and whispered that she would check if he were here, because apparently they were seating people.

I took pictures with each girl and my mother-in-law and my parents-in-law and my wedding party and I posed for obnoxious ones in which I was pretending to put on make-up in front of an ornate mirror… Rachel had gone out and come back several times, each time shaking her head. My resolve was strengthening. I knew it. I knew that Jace had been the right choice.

Just before the wedding was about to start, she ran out a final time, and though she was gone longer than usual, I assumed it was simply because she now had more people to look at. She shook her head, again, when she returned, and I sighed, feeling perfectly content in my choice. She was right—'Mr. Right' would have been here.

We gathered our bouquets, lined up outside the big double doors and when the music started, began walking into the sanctuary, down the aisle. I was giving myself away, so I straightened my head and watched and counted for my time to enter… and then did, watching everyone stand around me. I smiled at the people on the ends, but for the most part kept my eyes on Jace. …He was looking at me like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and under his gaze, I felt that way. I blushed and beamed and sighed happily when I reached him, turning to face the minister while everyone sat down.

I noticed several things, when I should have been listening to the man describe the sanctity of marriage and the depth of the commitment we were undertaking. Though our bouquets were real, the flowers on the alter, and actually, on the end of the pews too, were plastic. …Could the love be real, if the flowers weren't? …It had been one of only three requirements.

And come to think of it, I was certain we hadn't paid for flowers at all except for boutonnieres and bouquets. …So despite wanting the whole wedding to be in budget, my mother-in-law had paid for fake flowers on her own. …Outside the budget. …Fake flowers.

The minister instructed us to take each other's hands, and I watched as Jace repeated the vows to me with a growing sense of dread. When he turned to his best man to get my ring, I found myself frantically scanning our guests, hoping for a gray-haired entomologist to run to. This wasn't right…

He wasn't there. I wanted him to be there. In that moment, I was frantic enough to throw convention out the window and actually run from the alter, but he wasn't there.

The minister asked me to repeat after him, and I did, thinking about everything I loved about Jace, convincing myself that it was not his fault that his mother had absolutely no regard for my wishes and that he would be a good husband. …Better than a man who would string me along, perpetually changing his mind. Jace said his 'I do' and after a brief intake of breath and final flick of my eyes out to where he wasn't, I said mine as well.

I heard a door in the back open and turned to see who was entering or exiting, but the minister had just pronounced us _Man and Wife_ and Jace had pulled me to him, kissing me deeply. It was not the kiss from the day before, against a tree, and filled with emotion. But it was soft, and nice, and warm and comfortable. We were turned towards the pews and I scanned the people again, thinking perhaps he had walked in late… but he was nowhere to be found.

The minister said it was his honor to present _Mr. and Mrs. Jace Wendt, _not Mr. and Mrs. Wendt or Jace and Sara Wendt, and it took everything in me to smile and not burst into tears. Everything had been _wrong_.

* * *

I came in about five minutes before the wedding was scheduled to begin, clad in the only suit I'd brought and sitting in the back, but along the aisle. I wanted to make sure she would see me. A bridesmaid who I vaguely recognized as one of the girls from the bar hurried up to me not a minute later, pulling me out of the earshot of anyone else and saying that Sara had told Jace about our kiss, and she had sent her out to make sure that if I came, I was out of sight of Jace. She didn't want a confrontation.

"If he can't see me, she won't either…" I argued, thinking I would gladly take a punch if it meant I got Sara in the exchange, but not wanting to ruin her wedding if she didn't want that. …Clearly she had thought I would be coming. She knew I wouldn't get on the plane, despite telling me to. That had to mean something, didn't it?

"I'll tell her you're here. Seriously, Jace spent all last night screaming at her…"

So I reluctantly moved to the far end of the back pew, situating myself behind a woman with ridiculously large hair. The wedding was nice, but not what I would have imagined Sara planning. From what I knew about her, my instinct was something on a beach, at sunset… She would be so beautiful.

When she walked in, I realized that my imagination had not done her justice. The dress was simple—spaghetti straps down to a simple white dress, fitted below the bust, and flowing out from there, falling straight and in a classic, simple, elegant fashion to the floor. She straightened her chin, and did not look around for me as she walked down the aisle, smiling at people but… it didn't seem like it met her eyes.

I held out hope that she would change her mind, especially when I saw her begin to scan the crowd, a frown creasing her eyes and forehead, despite the grin fixed perpetually and falsely upon her lips. I wanted to stand and announce my love to her, but I held back. She knew, and she knew I was here. She had a choice, and I had to let her make it.

She hesitated before saying 'I do,' but said it she did, and I bolted from the church, not wishing to see their first kiss as husband and wife. I felt nauseous, and thoroughly wished I had left yesterday when I had the chance. At the very least, I didn't have much time. By the time I got through security, there should only be a half hour before boarding. At the very least, I wouldn't have to stay here long. …At the very least, I could put her behind me, once and for all.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Soo, this is kinda short, but I figure as it's a chapter without much (any?) GSR, you'd all be okay with that. And while you're all not very happy with me (I'm seriously afraid of CSIKathy now... Someone make sure she doesn't have any swizzle sticks or fanny packs...) at least I'm not dragging out their time apart. I mean, have I been updating quickly or what?

GSRMania, tell your husband that that is perfectly normal behavior. I don't have a fancy iphone, but I check this site on my phone in bed, at work, in school, while driving (only at stoplights!!) Lol. Also, it's a little late to make that clarification. :P Apparently, I am very like the Genie in the bottle. BUT! I do promise he won't be 70. Or need Viagra.

* * *

Chapter Thirty:

It was with concerted effort that I didn't complain at the wedding. Jace apologized for the things he had noticed too, but it didn't seem to mean much, at this point. I nodded numbly, smiled in an empty way, and let the reception go on around me. At the very least, I was glad that I had married Jace instead of waiting on a man who really didn't know what he wanted from me.

We had the week off, but did very little. We slept in, and then I would ready while he watched TV or worked on his thesis… he tried to initiate love making, but it was easy to say that we had just two days ago and just three days ago and that I would if I wasn't just so tired. His mother called, at the end of the week, and the way he yelled at her about the flowers… I dragged him into the bedroom, resolving myself to be content with the life I had chosen.

Just because the wedding hadn't been perfect didn't mean that Jace wasn't still a good man whom I loved very much.

A month in, he was waiting on my period, and though he was disappointed when it came, I was relieved. Even if I wanted a baby, eventually, we weren't financially secure enough, right now, for me to think it was a good idea. So we went back to using condoms, and I went back to working long hours at the lab, seeing Jace on nights when he wasn't working and briefly between our shifts, assuming I didn't pull a double.

I didn't want to admit it, but I checked my email with a frequency that bordered on compulsiveness, thinking that even if he had changed his mind and decided that he didn't love me, he still might want to stay in contact with me. We could be friends, like we'd said we both wanted, once upon a time.

Another month passed, and I stopped checking my email so often, but I still had dreams about that one kiss in the park and the way it had shaken me to my core. By our first Christmas together, I thought of Dr. Grissom far less often, though always with a strange pang that I couldn't quite define in my chest. Jace had finished his thesis and pending approval by the board, would have his Masters soon. He'd go back to working normal hours, and we could have a normal, married life for a change. I was even excited for it. I mean, I had never said I didn't love the man. I would be more than happy to spend more time with him and have a semblance of a normal life. I was lonely, sleeping without him for so long.

In April of 1999 he got a job with a company—apparently someone in their company had read his thesis and thought he was brilliant… He was started with a corner office and a salary that was twice what I would make in a year, and they were quick to reassure him that it was only a starting wage. In half a year, they would make him another offer.

At first I thought they were crazy, but then I started getting phone calls from other major companies, trying to get ahold of Jace to hire him for his expertise. …I had read the thesis, but mostly I had been proofreading. As good as I was with math, I still didn't get microeconomics except in very broad, very basic terms. And from what it sounded like these people were offering him, the first company had gotten lucky in snatching him up first.

Jace and I were… well, overwhelmed, to be quite frank. We spent a weekend buying him a new wardrobe, because he could no longer wear jeans and a t-shirt every day and because the man couldn't dress himself well in anything else.

In June, he was talking about us having a baby because we were no longer insecure in our finances. I had frowned at first, putting it off, making sure to replenish the condoms every time I went to the grocery store, not wanting to ever be in a position where we were without and decided we didn't care enough to stop… But really, what was I waiting for? Dr. Grissom clearly had never loved me, and he had been the only man in the world who could make me doubt Jace. So then my future with Jace was secure. Financially, we were secure. …Having a baby right now wouldn't mean poverty… our child would never grow up the way I had. And I wanted a baby. I wanted to be a mother.

A part of me felt like it might fill the void left behind, despite how happy Jace truly made me. I mean, it wasn't the 'walking on air' kind of happy, but… I was consistently contented. That was enough.

I started buying prenatal vitamins instead of condoms, and the woman at the counter of our small, organic grocery store started winking at me. …I made a point to go to a different cashier from now on. Ew.

In July and August, we were disappointed and I started worrying that it wouldn't happen… that maybe I couldn't conceive. I wanted us to go in and talk to someone about it fertility treatments, but Jace insisted we talk to my ob/gyn instead, who laughed when I told her I was worried after only two months and showed us how to track when I was ovulating and gave us… tips.

You wouldn't expect it, but conception sex can be crazy hot. Your whole body is tingling both from what he's doing to you and your excitement about what it could be bringing… I mean, we had sex when I wasn't ovulating, but when I was… Oh man, the things he did to me. And everything was hotter because he would whisper in my ears, "Oh, Jesus, Sara… You feel so good. I love you so much. We're going to make a baby, just like this, honey… with all this love. Every moment of her existence will be in love. God, I want to make you come."

I mean, okay, maybe that's weird. But I promise, it's also sexy as hell. I would be in the middle of a crime scene and someone would say something about a baby or love just say 'Oh God!' when they saw something particularly disgusting… and my toes would be curling in my boots and the hair on the back of my neck standing up in response.

In October the test was positive. We were having a baby!

At that point, everything changed. Jace had renegotiated his salary to some ridiculous amount that I didn't even want to think about, but he promised me we'd live modestly and give a lot to charity, which at least made me feel less guilty about it. We bought a small two bedroom with an unfinished basement so that if we had more kids, we could remodel to give them their own rooms, and we scheduled a trip to Costa Rica for our honeymoon before I would be too big to really enjoy myself… but I was given very strict conditions, for the trip, about what I could eat and drink and about what kind of footwear would be appropriate… And I was happy to oblige. When I wasn't pregnant, I would have said a little risk was worth it for the adventure, but with a tiny life inside me, I was more concerned.

We managed to find a cruise that would take us down there, and all of their food was loaded up and stocked in L.A. But, it stopped in Puerto Ayora, where the Darwin Research Facility was, for one week, and then on the coast of Costa Rica for another week before heading back towards home. And with the money we now had, Jace knew we'd have other opportunities for beach-side vacations. He willingly gave me the honeymoon I had so desired and ridiculously growled at me when I tried on my old bikini, asking if he thought my boobs were now too big for it. I mean, I would only be three months when we went, and I wasn't worried about having a little tummy… but the way my boobs had swelled up already, I was worried about public indecency.

He plopped me onto the bed, assuring me that he saw nothing wrong with my new-found cleavage and I laughed, honestly happy, while he ran soft kisses over the stomach that I knew would not be flat for long.


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, this one is short too. I probably could have combined this one and the last one. ...Just imagine that I did. :)

See? I'm already making it all better. Nobody get your hopes up though because then you'll all be angry at me again. Lol.

* * *

Chapter Thirty One:

Catherine knew something was wrong. She always knew. After a while, Brass suspected as much too. He started asking if I wanted to grab a drink after shift, while Catherine showed up at least once a week sometimes with Lindsey in tow and sometimes without, depending on the rationalization she gave for being there. They ranged from "Lindsey missed you… she wouldn't stop whining until we came to see 'Uncle Gil,'" (The five year old would look at me and giggle, trying not to give away her mother's lie, and I would roll my eyes and put in the Disney movie she'd brought.) to, "Eddie's being such an ass. You've got vodka, right?" (While holding up a fresh carton of orange juice…) to, "I just thought we could _talk_. We never _talk_ anymore." (To which I would reply, "Are you my wife?" But this never deterred her either.)

And really, I mean… the first year was rough. I let Jim take me out in late July, on their one year anniversary, and got drunk enough to thoroughly embarrass myself and my friend. He called Catherine to help him get me home, in part because he'd had too much to drive, and in part because he couldn't handle me on his own, especially when he was half-gone himself.

I heard a lot of shit the next morning, but I didn't care. It was the one real breakdown I'd allowed myself since that day in the park, after I'd kissed her. …I dreamed of that kiss constantly. I had stopped taking care of my needs myself, because it always ended in tears, which meant the dreams came more and more often, and far too vividly. …But at the very least, they didn't reduce me to crying, which helped me feel like I hadn't left my balls along with my heart in San Francisco.

That's another thing—that damn song, "I left my heart in San Francisco…" For some reason, Greg decided he liked it. A lot. Like, better than punk rock. It was _always_ on in the damn lab. Seriously, couldn't I just catch a break?

It was right around Christmas time that Catherine staged an intervention. Well, kind of. I mean, I'm pretty sure that it was mostly for me. In any case, she asked me in what I believed was a hypothetical question, where I would go if I could go anywhere in the world to get away. I told her Costa Rica, or the Galapagos. That was where I would feel closest to Sara, without having to relive every moment of pain from San Francisco. She asked this in… early November.

Two weeks before Christmas, she presented me with a Christmas present—two tickets on a cruise ship leaving out of L.A. that would take us to both Costa Rica and the Galapagos. I blinked at her in surprise and she huffed, throwing her hair over her shoulder and sitting in the seat across from me in the abandoned break room.

"Look, Gil, let's just lay our cards on the table here. You're burning out… you've hardly been functioning for more than a year. …With Eddie cheating on me and the divorce, I really just need to get away. My mom offered to take Lindsey, Jim approved the time off, and I promise we have a room with two beds. It's exactly where you want to go, and while you're off chasing rainforest bugs, I can lounge by the pool on ship and drink cocktails. It's win-win."

I protested. I mean, really, I did.

But she was right—work was the only thing sustaining me, and if I screwed up on a scene because I wasn't myself or if I burned out entirely… I would have nothing. She was my best friend and the only woman who I would believe would orchestrate this trip in an honestly platonic way. Besides, she had been looking worn out lately. I had been tempted to invite her over for the screwdrivers she used to force on me. She was pale, she had bags under her eyes, and she was snapping at people. The divorce was really hard on her, and she needed the time, and it had already been paid for.

I gave in, and as if to make sure I wouldn't back out, she insisted we call the airport and book our plane tickets right then and there. We were going on a cruise, apparently, over Christmas and New Year's.

I spent hours writing detailed notes to the CSIs who would take over my cases while I was gone, because I had taken on any many as I could manage in order to get through the days, and Catherine came over when I said I was done packing, going through what I had packed and then proceeding to fill an entire other suitcase for me. I grumbled, telling her she'd better watch it or I might 'misplace' my passport. The look she gave me warned me that I would rather bring six bags than misplace anything.

On December 20th, we flew from McCarran to LAX, and were in our tiny cabin by four in the afternoon. The room was really very tiny—in order to have two beds, we'd each gotten a single, and I wasn't immediately sure if I would even fit in the shower in the bathroom, but Catherine assured me that we wouldn't be in the room except to change clothes, shower, and sleep. She immediately disappeared into the bathroom, coming out with a tank top and shorts over a red bikini.

I shook my head. "You know that we're still in the states right now, right? It's probably only sixty degrees…"

She huffed but indulged me, pulling on a sweatshirt over her arms. "Better, dad? Now come on, I think they've got free drinks this first night. …You're not wearing that, are you?"

Rather than fight with her, I changed into jeans and a t-shirt, because I had no intention of wearing swimming trunks, and I had no faith that she wouldn't choose them if I let her. Within minutes, she was leading the way out of our tiny cabin to the deck of the ship, talking about the different restaurants and bars and pools on board, not to mention the activities. She swore she'd beat me in shuffle board, which I doubted she even knew how to play, but the enthusiasm in her voice was catching, and for the first time in more than a year, I felt myself smiling without thinking.

Maybe she was right. Maybe all I needed was some time to relax, let go, enjoy myself. After all, Catherine was not the only woman on board who seemed to think that sixty degrees was bathing suit weather, and while I might not find someone to compare to Sara, I could certainly find someone who would occupy my time.

I snorted absurdly at the idea of discussing the tie-on-the-door concept with Catherine, but let her lead me into the crowd. While I was here, I'd let her take the lead.


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, ff is being mean right now and almost didn't log me in. So while I'm writing the next chapter right now and will attempt to get it up tonight, I make no promises, because I might not be able to log in again soon.

Also, for those reviewers who were concerned about the Catherine and Grissom situation... don't be. I find the whole idea of them together... laughable. I mean, you know, maybe in a drunken moment they would think about it... but Catherine would be impatient with how thorough Grissom is, especially once she saw how much his baggy slacks had been hiding, and Grissom would likely make some insenstive comment about how he expected her to be more flexible what with her history, and she would storm off, telling him to fuck his bugs instead if he was going to be picky.

...So yeah. No Catherine and Grissom lovin'. At all.

Ew.

* * *

Chapter Thirty Two:

I was so freaking excited! I mean, seriously, we were on a cruise ship headed to places I had dreamed about going for ages! Even though I was just under three months pregnant, Jace insisted on carrying everything, and therefore looked very, very silly, one duffle bag over each shoulder, a small bag in one hand, and two wheeled suitcases held in his other hand, being pulled behind him. I tried very hard to let him let me help, even if it was just to pull a suitcase, but he grinned and said I was already carrying enough weight, with a lascivious look on his face and a glance down at my ever-expanding chest.

It wasn't that they were all that much bigger; it was that I'd had a modest chest to start with… so even small differences were extremely noticeable.

I smacked him gently and pulled out the map of the ship we'd been given, finding our room. It was a large suite with a king-sized bed. So, on a ship, that meant… about the size of a small hotel room. Sure, we could have gone bigger, but it wasn't necessary, and while Jace was often tempted to purchase over-the-top things with our new-found fortunes, I liked to scale him back whenever possible.

One thing that was nice, however, was that we could afford to be discriminating—to only purchase food that was organic and free-range and pesticide free, clothing that was made from organic fabrics and made by people being paid a fair wage. It helped assuage my conscience.

I said the room number out loud and all of a sudden there was a man in a uniform, helping Jace with bags and escorting us to our room. I frowned at that, having seen many others in uniform ignore men in similar predicaments as Jace, but I didn't say anything. We needed the help, and I generally didn't like to make a scene. I mean, how do you justify yelling at a person for helping you?

We dropped off our luggage and hurried to dinner. We'd boarded in the last half-hour before they disembarked, so if we didn't hurry we would miss the sit-down meal and have to find another place, which wasn't bad, but my program told me that you got a lot of information at dinner on the first night. We were seated and a man who said he was the first mate was reeling off the things that would go on tonight, both mandatory (showing passengers which lifeboats they would go to in the event of an emergency) and voluntary, such as karaoke and a live band and staff-led party games, where people would crowd together, get crazy drunk, and watch two volunteers do silly challenges while equally hammered.

The meal was amazing, but halfway through it I caught sight of a man I had put behind me over a year ago. He was more handsome, with age, the hair at his temples just a little more gray than they had been, the smile on his face bright. I looked at his dinner partner. From across the room, I could only make out that she was a strawberry blonde with a shapelier figure than mine.

I swallowed and turned away. It didn't matter. I mean, despite the fact that the man had a knack for showing up unexpectedly at the worst time, I was happily married and on my honeymoon, and the cruise ship was the size of a town. There was no reason to believe I would see him again, except at meals, because in this dining room, each set of passengers had a set table. I drew my attention back to my meal, resolving myself to pretend I'd never seen him. He might not even recognize me—my hair was shorter, and I straightened most days.

Besides, he was clearly involved. I mean, it wasn't like she could be his friend or his sister, right? Who went on a cruise with someone of the opposite sex without being involved with them? That was just… strange.

Jace suggested going to a pool as they were heated and most of the people would be drinking, so we headed back to the room to change before heading out to find a pool that didn't have a bar with in-pool bar stools, because those would be the least occupied. It turned out, however, that the only pools without bars were children's pools, and closing within the half hour. We found one that was mostly unoccupied and slid in, delighting in the feel of the warm water.

"I hope they don't have them heated during the day, especially when we get further south…"

"They won't." He assured me. "At least not this much. That would be miserable."

A waiter came over and bent down by the side of the pool where we were sitting, "Can I get you folks a drink?"

I looked up and caught his eyes on my chest. I blushed and slid lower under the water—seriously, when I'd been a teenager I'd lamented the lack of a chest, but now I wanted nothing more than to go back to being cleavage-free. Jace cleared his throat, drawing the young man's eyes back to him. "A sprite and a cream soda."

The waiter moved away, and I turned my attention back to Jace. "…You can have a drink, honey."

He frowned. "Are you sure? I figured… you know, if you can't have alcohol or caffeine, then I wouldn't either."

I smiled and kissed him. "That's just silly. I've been off both for months now, when we were just trying to get pregnant. I'll be fine."

He smiled. "Next time, then."

The waiter returned, eyeing me in a way he clearly thought was sneakier than before, but which was not. He moved swiftly over to a couple who had gotten in near the bar, but they waved him away, apparently headed towards the bar-stools that were free. I realized belatedly who they were, but by then, Jace had followed my gaze and assumed that my lingering stare was because I wanted to approach them.

"…Is that Dr. Grissom?"

I shook my head. "I… can't tell, from this distance. Probably not." I glanced again, thinking that I had never seen him shirtless. While not muscled the way Jace was, his chest was flat down to his stomach and the light layer of hair splayed across it was dark and tempting. I looked away. "I don't think it is."

"Are you sure? Sara, hon, I think it is. Isn't that a crazy coincidence? …Let's go say 'Hello'."

I wanted to say no, argue that it really wasn't him, but he turned at that moment to better hear the bimbo in red, his laugh lighting up his features, making his identity unmistakable. So I moved beside my husband towards the man I would have left him at the alter for, ready to greet him and his voluptuous companion. God damn it.

"Dr. Grissom!" Jace called, and behind him, I closed my eyes briefly in disbelief that this was happening. When I opened them, both he and the woman were looking at us, she with open curiosity and he with blatant shock and something like horror on his face. I swallowed and forced the smile to my face. When I did so, Dr. Grissom seemed to come to himself, tearing his gaze from my face to look at Jace.

"Jace! It's good to see you! …Please, call me Gil."

They shook hands. "Alright, Gil. What are you doing on this cruise? Shouldn't you be busy catching criminals?" He teased, mostly because I think he didn't know how else to greet the man. I stepped up to his elbow.

"Criminalists are allowed a break, too, honey. Otherwise you'd be here alone." I smiled brightly at the pair before me. "Dr. Grissom. It's good to see you again."

He did not smile, but he didn't frown. He looked utterly unconcerned. "Mrs. Wendt, now, isn't it? Congratulations." He turned back to Jace. "I'm sorry, this is my colleague, Catherine Willows. Catherine, I met Mr. and Mrs. Wendt while giving a lecture in San Francisco."

I swallowed at the change in my title. I had only very rarely called him anything but Dr. Grissom. I had not used the formality to hurt him, but it felt like he was, which I didn't understand. I had told him no, but he had said he would be there… he said he would wait until the very last minute. If anyone ought to be angry, it was me.

Catherine offered her hand first to Jace and then to me, beaming and sticking her chest out, giggling and sliding her left arm around Dr. Grissom's shoulder. I was right—they were together. Though Jace and Dr. Grissom were mostly unaffected by her actions, I understood… she was communicating that she saw me as a threat, and laying her claim. I scoffed under my breath, when she scooted onto his lap to free up her stool. "Why don't you do join us? We can sit close…" She turned and batted her eyelashes at Dr. Grissom, who looked completely perplexed at her behavior.

Hadn't he introduced her as a colleague? Either she wanted me to believe something that wasn't true, for what reason I couldn't fathom, or he simply didn't understand that this was female for back-off-my-man. Jace, oblivious to all the subliminal communication taking place, slid onto the stool and pulled me into his lap as well. "Thanks. Wow, you know, I thought you and Sara would keep in touch after you lecture. I s'pose life just gets in the way, huh?"

"I suppose." He answered, placing tentative hands on Catherine's waist as he turned them both back towards the bar. …Tentative or just gentle?

I looked over my shoulder at Jace. "Honey, we left our drinks…"

He waved a hand dismissively, "We were going to order more anyway." He waved over the bartender and ordered a rum and coke and "…Did you want another cream soda, honey?"

"Just a cranberry juice." I told the man, who quickly turned his back to us to collect glasses and ice and ingredients. We turned back to the other couple, and all I could think was that I hoped Jace didn't turn the cruise into a series of double dates. …How extremely painful. At least I would be able to pull the honeymoon card…

"So," Jace smiled. "You never answered my question. Any reason behind the vacation?" He glanced at Catherine and gave Dr. Grissom a wink. "I assume it's pleasure, not business." Oh, god, I was going to be sick. I hadn't had any morning sickness, and now I was going to throw up in the pool. Get a freaking room!

Dr. Grissom started speaking, "No, you see—"

His companion spoke up. "It's hush-hush in the lab, about us, you know… Gil had to tell them he was coming for the bugs, and I'm supposed to be visiting my dying aunt." She giggled and winked back at Jace. I took the cranberry juice that had been placed in front of me, taking a deep drink and immediately spitting it all back into the glass.

Jace looked at me in concern. "What's wrong, honey?"

"There's vodka in it."

"Don't drink?" Catherine asked, but I noticed Dr. Grissom's eyes slide over my body speculatively. He knew. I sighed, shaking my head.

"I'm pregnant." Catherine's eyes were wide.

"Poor time to go on a cruise!" She laughed loudly again, and I scowled while Jace slid me off his lap to move over to get the bartender's attention and explain the necessity of an alcohol-free beverage.

"We wanted to take our honeymoon before the baby came… and before I was so big that the heat would be unbearable."

Dr. Grissom raised an eyebrow. "I see you got the take the honeymoon you wanted."

I raised an eyebrow in return. "I did."

Jace returned, carrying a drink. "I tasted it, honey—no burn. It's alcohol free."

"Thanks, honey."

He sat back down, pulling me into his lap. Dr. Grissom finished his drink in a swallow. "Well, I think we're gonna turn in early. Come on, _honey_."

The emphasis on the pet name was slight, and I wasn't sure if it was more proof that they were not truly together, or if he were merely communicating something to her that was beyond me. Catherine jumped up with a bounce in his bikini top and offered a hair toss and a laugh. "He must be anxious. Usually we're constantly afraid to be seen at each other's homes… makes it hard. But hey, we'll catch up with you two sometime on this trip, yeah? Maybe Sara and I can have a spa day while you boys explore the bugs in the jungle."

Jace and I laughed—I was far more likely to go exploring and bug-hunting, and while the man didn't necessarily frequent a spa, he was more likely to indulge in a day at the pool than me. They headed off, the woman lacing her fingers through his as they climbed out of the pool and pressing her wet body against his side, which prompted him to give her another uncertain look.

Jace chuckled as I slid into the vacant seat. "Looks like he's not used to be able to touch her in public. He seems so uncertain."

"Yes," I frowned, focusing my gaze at my drink. "He does."


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Wow, people are mean to Catherine. :) She's trying to help, I promise! ...You guys will like this chapter.

That was exciting to say. I haven't been able to say that for a long time. Lol.

Oh, and please review the last chapter and this one, if not seperately, then at least address each in a review? 'Cause I'm posting before I've gotten many, and that's pretty good of me, considering how many times I've updated today. Right? Right. :)

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Chapter Thirty Three:

"Do you want to tell me what the hell that was?" I asked her as soon as we were in our room with the door closed. Catherine laughed, turning around in a strangely graceful spin, a knowing look in her eyes.

"…She is the reason you've been so… off… for a year. You met her when you went to San Francisco, and she was either already married, or getting married, and you got burned." My eyes were wide, my mouth gaping in a fashion reminiscent of a fish. She tossed her hair, looking pleased with herself. "Gil… Let me tell you a few things. First of all, she wants you. She was eyeing you from across the pool before they ever came up to us… and she had fire in her eyes when I touched you. …The best way to make those feelings more… acute… is to make her jealous."

I rolled my eyes. "So you grope me without letting me know what the hell you're doing… and now we have to lie about our relationship for a month, because you concocted some torrid back story in your head?"

She just grinned at me. "Gil, you're too transparent. I mean, really. You're in love with her… you met her and her husband right before you turned into Debbie Downer, and your eyes were bugging out of your head when you saw her. You called Jace by his first name, but called her 'Mrs. Wendt,' and not a little spitefully…and she was the one you must have known better, because she's the criminalist. She was the one in your lecture. …I'm not a CSI for nothing."

I huffed. "I'm going to go change for bed."

She laughed. "Oh, honey, you don't want to share the shower with me?" I slammed the door to the bathroom behind me in response, and her laugh came through the doorway. This was a flipping game to her.

I agonized over the newly learned details while in the shower, and despite not wanting to break down, I also was unwilling to have a wet dream while sharing a room with Catherine, so I took care of myself in the shower, in a manner that was more about performing a duty detached than actual taking pleasure in the act. I mean, not that I didn't have enough to think about—Sara's body was as long and willowy as I had remembered, but delightfully full in pregnancy, everything rounder. …And I'd never, ever seen that much of her before today. As always, my imagination had not done justice to the reality.

Thankfully, we didn't see them the next day, or the day after it, and I was almost able to put her from my mind, focusing instead on relaxing and having fun, because it felt good to smile again, after so long… and I wasn't going to let her take it away from me. Plus, when we weren't around Sara and Jace, Catherine flirted with every male in sight, which spared me having to tend to her need for constant attention.

I was a much quieter person, in nature, and though I loved Catherine deeply, spending more than a day with her at any given time was… trying. And the cruise was a little over three weeks long. I soaked up every moment of silence for contemplation that I could.

We were not so lucky the fourth day into our trip—we ran into Sara, alone. Catherine pinched my butt, which made me flush like a tomato, and waved Sara over to us. "Hey! Where's your other half?"

I scowled at the reference. They might be married, but he was not her other half. She had doubted him too much for that to be true. She smiled in a way that told me she was merely tolerating Catherine, and her hand kept flickering to Catherine's hand on my shoulder and my reluctant arm around her waist. …Maybe Catherine had been right. I mean, I wasn't certain that I felt good with lying, but she was showing her feelings more obviously now that I seemed less hesitant. "He, uh… he had to talk to someone about finding internet access or… some way to contact his office. They called his cell phone, but of course there's no service. I don't even know how he checked the message…"

I frowned. "Where's he work now? I assume he doesn't need to call the garage?"

She smiled slightly, seeming surprised that I had remembered his job. "No, he… he's head of… financial something or other… with Mercer and Murdoch. It must be some kind of crisis…"

Catherine glanced at her watch. "Oh shoot, honey bear, I forgot I had that spa appointment. I'm gonna have to run if I'm going to make it… Will you be okay without me?"

She was barely concealing her grin. Seriously, _honey bear_?! "No, that's fine. You'd better hurry," I said, looking at my own watch. She laid a wet kiss on my cheek and rushed away, and Sara and I were left standing there, awkwardly. I cleared my throat. "If, uh… if you were busy… I can…"

"No. …I mean, I… I was just kind of exploring the ship some more, waiting for Jace."

I didn't know what I was doing, I just knew that I wanted to stay in her presence. I wanted to see if Catherine were right. "I… could walk with you. I mean, if… you wouldn't mind the company."

She shook her head in a way that reminded me of the day on campus, when I had professed my love to her, kissed her silly, and she had still turned me away. My stomach churned at the thought, and I pushed it away, falling into step with her as she continued around the edge of the deck. I searched for a topic of conversation, and settled on something that had bothered me, when she mentioned where Jace worked. "So… Mercer and Murdoch. How do you feel about him working with that company?"

She glanced at me uncertainly. "I… I don't follow. They produce… medical supplies, mostly. Medicine droppers and syringes and plastic tubing and—"

I raised an eyebrow. Did she really not know? "No, I… I meant that… Not what they make, but what they do."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I… don't know what you're talking about."

I frowned. "One of the first things you ever told me about yourself is that you're an environmentalist. It was all over the papers in Vegas… they're one of the worst companies in the world when it comes to pollution, improper disposal of waste… They have a deal with an oil company for the production of their plastic… they get it cheaper, but that oil company has been responsible for the last five major spills off the coasts of Central and South America… and that doesn't even go into the percentage of their factories are in third-world nations, with workers in sweat-shop conditions making less than a dollar a day…"

Her eyes were wide, and we had stopped walking when I started talking about the oil company. She was looking at me in disbelief, and like she was in pain. I worried, uncertain, and finally steered her over to a chair to sit down, worrying about her reaction. It seemed… extreme. I almost felt guilty, having not realized how big a deal this minor detail would apparently become. "Sara, are you okay?"

She turned her gaze on me in disbelief. "And… all of this is… to save money, right?"

I blinked in surprise. "I suppose so… there's a local group in Vegas that's been making a deal about them, because they want to move one of their distributing locations into the area, but the land they're looking at is close to Lake Mead and…"

"So… the Director of Financial Services… would be in charge of all of that. Right? I mean… there's no way he couldn't know."

I swallowed, realizing what I'd done. A strange emotion, guilt mixed with elation, jumped in my chest, and I had to take a deep breath to settle it, so that I could rationally speak. "I… I don't know, Sara. I… I'm sorry. I didn't realize that this would be… such a problem."

She grit her teeth. "It isn't your fault… Apparently, my husband and I have something serious to discuss…"

I frowned, uncertain how to respond. I turned my gaze to the ocean for a minute, and then over the railing and finally back to her. "…Did you want to see said husband, right now?"

She blinked in surprise and looked over the railing we were seated by, peering over and seeing Jace looking around, searching for her. Her eyes were hard and she stood up. "No. …No, I don't think there's any way I won't create a scene." She headed off in the opposite direction of the stairs leading between the two decks, but stopped after a few paces, glancing back at me. "…Are you coming with, or staying here?"

So, surprised and bewildered but so unbelievably happy again, despite knowing the choices she had made, I stood and followed her away from her husband.

We ended up in an on-ship movie theatre, watching an old western, which reminded me of the dream I'd had in the hotel room… the first I'd had of her… the one that had been most lifelike. I had honestly believed she'd come to me, having found Jace doing the unforgivable… but the way she'd reacted to this bit of news, this act might be worse than cheating. I mean, she had still chosen him over me. I knew that. …But I also knew that a big part of it had been because I'd changed my mind about her… because she'd thought I wasn't certain.

It wasn't due to a lack of attraction.

…So I would have to be very consistent, and supportive, these next few weeks. Reassure her that I did know what I wanted. If she chose him again, it would absolutely kill me… but I couldn't let it go without trying. I couldn't let her walk away again without knowing that I still loved her. I had loved her for a year and I would continue to love her, whether she ran away with me or went back to him and whether she was pregnant with his child or not.

I could be a good step-dad. I would love the child, do visitation… Jace seemed like a reasonable guy. Over time, we might even have a good working relationship. We could alternate Take Your Child to Work days…

I got caught up in this fantasy world for so long that I missed the majority of the movie. I glanced over at her when the credits were rolling—her eyes stared at the screen, but they weren't taking anything in. They were dark and unmoving, her arms crossed, her fingernails digging in to the skin on her upper arms. Skin I had caressed, once upon a time, and found irresistibly soft. I couldn't help it—I laid a hand over said hand and arm, relishing in the feel of her, in a pretense of getting her attention. "You ready?"

Her eyes softened as they fell upon me, and she glanced at her watch in frustration. "…Yeah. When's… Catherine… done at the spa?"

We walked out of the theatre, closer to one another than we had been before. "I… guess I'm not really sure. How long do those things take?"

She laughed. "You're asking the wrong person, buddy. I, uh… I really don't want to eat alone. Did you want t—"

"Pookie!" Catherine's voice rang through the air. I cringed visibly. She was about to ask me to eat with her, and now… "There you are! Oh, I just feel so refreshed! …It's almost dinner time, should we go?" She glanced at Sara. "Hello."

"Hi." Sara responded, abruptly.

I frowned. "Sara…Why don't you join us? She and Jace are fighting, _honey_."

Catherine's eyes flashed at this, but she grinned. "Oh, of course, pookie." She turned from me to look at Sara, linking her arm through the brunette's. "Men: you can't live with 'em, but you can't cuddle with a Bob."

Sara frowned, asking the question that was on my lips. "A… Bob?"

"Bee-Oh-Bee." She clarified, spelling. When Sara still stared at her without understanding, Catherine got exasperated. "…Battery Operated Boyfriend…?" She said, in a voice that implied that much was obvious. Sara blushed and I choked, though there was nothing in my throat, and Catherine's laugh floated back to me as I followed them.

Oh God. I knew she thought she was helping, but…


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Lol, you guys will like this chapter. I had a _lot_ of _fun_ writing this chapter.

Thanks for the reviews, and this is the actual last update of the night. :) Enjoy!

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Chapter Thirty Four:

I was going to rip her hair out. I mean, really, I would have preferred the screaming match that I was avoiding with Jace to listening to her call him another sickening pet name or watch her hang off his arm. Apparently, Dr. Grissom liked whores. Dumb whores. How this woman ever became a criminalist, I don't know.

We went to a pizza place on the ship, avoiding the main dining room because I knew that that was where Jace would expect me, and I took my leave from them early, seriously out of patience for this woman. I wanted to spend some more time with Dr. Grissom, despite knowing that he was happy and had moved on without me, because his mere presence made me happier… calmer. I mean, the nail marks in my arms don't support that statement, but I've said that I had a temper… there would have been a lot more damage, and of the external variety, had I not been with Dr. Grissom.

I went to the room after that, to find Jace pacing anxiously. "Sara! Oh my god, honey, I've been looking for you everywhere! I was about to call and have the crew start searching for you!" He wrapped me up in a hug, but I tensed beneath him, stepping back.

When he looked at me in surprise, I fixed him with my best glare. "So… Mercer and Murdoch. They're… pretty environmentally friendly, aren't they?"

His eyes got wide. "Uh… Well, they… they…" He trailed off, and I crossed my arms over my chest in aggravation.

"…Do you remember the conversation we had, back when you were getting all those job offers, about which company you ought to work for?"

He swallowed, "Now, Sara, honey… I told you I wanted to work for this company because they were the first. The other ones might not have ever looked at me, if Mercer and Murdoch hadn't offered me so much money… There's no way to know if we would be this successful if they hadn't—"

"So while I was saying that I was uncomfortable, having so much money… talking about charities and the piece of the proverbial pie we were consuming and… and saying that the only real benefit was that we could afford to lessen the negative impact we had on the earth… You were telling your bosses how signing a contract with an oil company with substandard environmental regulations could get them a deal, and you were telling them that having factories overseas and paying those people more than _five hundred_ times less that you make in a year—_you_, not _us_—would save millions, which would in turn go back to line their pockets and fund…What? The purchase of private jets and privately owned islands and… and… ten houses for two people?!"

I was yelling now, and the walls were certainly not thick enough for me to think I wouldn't be overheard, but I didn't care. I couldn't help it, right now. "…While I was researching every suit company to make sure you only wore environmentally friendly clothes to work… and packing your lunches with organic and free-range everything… You were telling your bosses that if they threw their waste into the oceans instead of into a landfill or, hell, I don't know, finding a way to produce their products in a way that was less harmful… You said, 'fuck, if it'll save us all a buck or two, I guess I don't give a shit what kind of world I'll be bringing my children into!'"

I was panting, shaking, my whole body on alert, and Jace looked alarmed. We'd fought before, and he'd seen me lose my temper, but it had never been directed so fully at him. I tried hard to restrain myself, in our fights. Believe it or not, I was still trying… I was failing, but I was trying.

"Sara, honey… Calm down. Stress isn't good for you right now. …Okay? Come sit down and let me explain…"

He reached for my hand but I snatched it out of his grasp. "I'm not sitting down or calming down! You can try to explain… but if I'm stressed, it's because my husband, whom I love and trust, has been lying to me."

"I didn't lie!" He said indignantly, and I scoffed.

"You lied by omission! If I went and slept with some guy and you didn't ask me the question directly, would it be okay for me to not tell you about it?!"

"What?! No! Of course not!"

I raised an eyebrow, no longer yelling, my voice low and cold. "Well, then you lied to me. So go ahead, try to explain this…"

He let out his breath in a huff, exasperated. "Well, first of all, I didn't advise any of those policies. They were in place when I was hired, honey. The majority of what I've worked on is restructuring the hierarchy and the departments in the company, and heading up payroll. I mean, I oversee the rest of that, but I have no power to change it. They don't want to change it!"

"So, you decide that while your apparent financial genius is coveted far and wide, you'd like to keep helping one of the worst companies out there, because, like I said, as long as it lines our pockets, it doesn't matter what kind of world I bring our children into."

"Argh!" He said, frustrated with me. "Lining my pockets?! Sara, we live in a house we could afford making a quarter of what I make a year, with you staying at home! We give nearly seventy-five percent of everything I take home to your various charities."

"_My_ charities?" I asked with hands now on my hips.

"Yeah, just like _you_ are bringing _our_ children into the world." He snapped back.

"Don't talk to me like that! This is _your_ fault! You misrepresented the company you work for, knowing that because their offenses are mostly in the third world, I wouldn't find out unless some activist group brought it to my attention or I specifically researched your company, which I shouldn't have to do. I should be able to trust you when you say you're working for a good company!"

"And you misrepresented your relationship with Dr. Grissom!"

I actually took a full step backwards. "…Excuse me?"

He took a step towards me. "Don't think I didn't see the way you two looked at each other last night! The way you were glaring daggers at his girlfriend! I had him taking you out to dinner, thinking that some intellectual stimulation would break you out of whatever mood you had been in when you should have been excited—Our wedding was a week away, and you were moping around, crying, staying in bed all day… What was I supposed to think? Apparently, you were moping over him, and I sent you off to be wined and dined!"

I narrowed my eyes. "…How _dare_ you? _You_'re blaming _me_ because you sent me off with a man, and you somehow think it means something because I didn't like his bimbo girlfriend?"

"Then why were you so upset that week!?" He demanded, and I told him the explanation I had come up with at the time, when I'd expected him to ask and he hadn't.

"Because I was getting married in a few days and not one member of my family was going to be there!" A sob slipped out at my words. In truth, this had bothered me too, but it was even harder to think about than the whole issue with Dr. Grissom, so I had pushed it out of my mind. His gaze softened, and he moved over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"I… I'm sorry honey. … I should have realized. You said you were fine giving yourself away, but…"

I pulled out from under his touch. "But instead of having my mom come to me right before I got married, I had your mom, the woman who was given free reign as long as three requirements were met, and who neglected to follow even one of them."

He frowned. "…I didn't know about that any more than you did, honey. I yelled at her for it… You heard me do it."

I shook my head. "You're right…something you did over a year ago should make up for the months of lies, as well as the accusation you just threw out there. Here, I'll stay here, and you can go get in contact with your bosses and tell them that we're headed towards some valuable rainforest and if they haven't taken the opportunity to ravage it yet, I'm sure there's some financial gain in it if they feel so inclined. And I won't be mad at you, because you yelled at your mother, once, for ruining our wedding."

I headed to the bathroom but he stopped me, "Sara… Can't we at least just talk about this?"

I shook my head slowly. "No. …I'm going to go take a shower, cry for twenty minutes, and then curl up in bed. And you are going to contact a steward about bringing you a rollaway for the night, because you are not sleeping in that bed with me."

He frowned. Even in our worst fights, I had never sent him from our bed. "…Don't you think you're overreacting a little?"

I shook my head again. "No. …You didn't owe that company anything. They gave you wealth that you claim not to care about and which we give away anyway. You had choices… you could have gone anywhere else. You could have made the demand that instead of a higher salary and a corner office, that they could only have your services if they changed their ways. Or, you could have applied your considerable talents to some smaller, local businesses who would be willing to make the changes. You could have worked in nonprofit, helping them write grants and manage their money so that they could do more with less. …Instead, you lied to me, your wife, about the company you worked for and the money you made, because you had some bizarre sense of loyalty to _them_. …When you start acting like your first loyalty is to your wife, we'll talk again about whether you can come back into bed."

"Sara, this is dumb! _I_ paid for this cruise so—"

"So what, exactly? So because you make more money, I lose all control? I can't kick you out of bed when you lie to me for a year about something that you know is important to me? …You know what, you're right. You're my sugar daddy, and I'm just your little wifey, right? _Mrs. Jace Wendt._ Why don't I just go lay spread-eagled on the bed, still and silent, so you can claim your conjugal rights in peace? Because you have the money, so you have the power, right?"

"Sara," he began, obviously thinking I was overreacting. And maybe I was… but he was acting so… unlike himself. So horrible. I felt like lashing out was not only the correct course of action, but the only course of action.

"No." I interrupted, surprised at how calm I had remained. "You make a choice, right now, about how you view this marriage. You climb into bed, and you are the man who wears the pants. And when I leave you and take the baby and half of anything you make for the next nineteen years of your life, you can tell me how good it feels to have the power and to control the money. …Or, you call the goddamned steward with your tail between your legs, and you can sleep alone until I feel like I can even look at you again."

I turned away from him, slamming the bathroom door behind me, taking the time to lock it, turn on the shower… and then collapse in tears on the floor.

Fucking _men_.


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: A little short, but I have to run to work and I wanted to update again before tonight!

Thanks to gsrmania for the suggestion of shnookums, and to my fiance for 'cuddle muffin' (oh, yeah, don't ask...), and to JBCC whose suggestions I only just got, but some of which I will be sure to incorporate into Catherine's dialogue. :)

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Chapter Thirty Five:

"Catherine," I said, when Sara was well out of sight and earshot, no doubt heading to have the confrontation with her husband. "…You need to tone it down a little."

She shook her head. "I thought about that, what with them fighting and all, but… I mean, Gil, the woman absolutely hates me. Do you see the way she glares at me? I think we should keep it up."

I grit my teeth. "She's glaring at you because the way you've been acting is migraine-inducing. The next time you call me… shnookums or… cuddle muffin or—"

She snorted. "Cuddle Muffin? That's great! That's my next one!"

I groaned. "Okay, Catherine, let's have an honest talk, okay? You're right, I'm in love with her. I am. And she chose to marry him because she didn't think I knew what I wanted. …Having an overbearing girlfriend on my arm while flirting with her is… it's not projecting the image that I do, in fact, know what I want. Capice?"

She rolled her eyes. "So we stage a big breakup near the end of the trip, and you tell her that I was just a piece on the side while you were pining over her."

I sighed, putting my face in my hands. "…Catherine, dear… you know that I love you. You know that. So take it with a grain of salt when I tell you that you are absolutely, fucking crazy if you think keeping this up is going to help me." She looked at me in surprise, and I sighed. "I just… This fight they're in is… big. I mean, she would be more likely to forgive him if he cheated on her and brought home a venereal disease. …So I can't wait until the end of the trip to be 'available'."

She frowned. "Okay, right, but… We can't stage a break up right now. Then Jace will throw a fit about her spending time with you. I mean, really, do you have any idea how obviously the pair of you were eyeing each other in that pool? Not only did my little game make Sara jealous, it also put Jace at ease… even if you were eyeing up his pregnant wife, you had a hottie like me to take back to the room and release all that pent up sexual frustration."

"Oh, god, I'm not having this conversation with you, Catherine." I cringed.

She laughed, picking up her piece of pizza finally and biting into it. "Don't then. But we can't break up and you can't tell her the truth for… at least a few days. At the earliest. And hey, by then, we'll finally have some beaches, so I won't want to act like I'm with somebody anyway…"

I got up from the table, walking away from her. She was trying so hard to help me, but if it didn't work out, she saw me as out nothing. I hadn't had Sara, so I would lose nothing in this effort. The truth was that when I looked at Sara… when I was close to her, again… I felt like she was mine. If she chose Jace again, it wouldn't be going back to the status quo—it would be losing her all over again.

I went back to the cabin before Catherine, showering and changing for bed. I didn't sleep, though I pretended to be when she stumbled in around one. Instead, I laid awake, replaying the last few days in my head. Something was nagging at me, and while I'd been surprised just to see Sara again, much less on a cruise, and had been even more shocked when Catherine started groping me… Wasn't it weird that they'd come up to us at all? I mean, if I replayed the moment in my mind minus the all-too-distracting images of Sara in that tiny bathing suit… it seemed like Jace had been leading. He walked in front of her, he called my name, he spoke first.

He had wanted to talk to me, but it seemed that Sara wasn't so sure.

…Had she told her friend to lie to me about Jace to avoid making a scene? Because clearly if the man had yelled at Sara all night, right before their wedding, he could not always be so calm and reserved as he seemed. Wouldn't he have pulled her away from us or, I don't know, punched me on sight? Sara didn't seem like the type to lie. She had always been honest with me.

But what other reason would her friend have to lie? She clearly knew about us… she'd known about the kiss, after all. Maybe she had thought that Sara was better off with Jace, and she didn't want her making the mistake? …Because, if Sara hadn't told the girl to lie…if Sara hadn't been part of it… then she probably didn't know that I had been there at all. And she'd been looking for me, in that space of a breath before 'I do'.

I got up and dressed at five thirty, walking along the ship until some of the dining rooms started to open and I could count of getting coffee and at least something to occupy my time. My head was reeling with my new suspicions, and it was all I could do to avoid knocking on every door in Sara's part of the ship until I found her room and begged her to tell me that she hadn't known I was there, but had been looking for me.

To my very great surprise, Jace slid into the chair opposite me around six thirty. …He looked like hell. I mean, really… looked like he hadn't slept all night, nor had had a shower. His hair was rumpled, like he'd been perpetually running his hands through it, and his clothes were wrinkled. "Gil… I need your help."

I blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered my politely uncertain look. "…What can I do for you?"

"Sara is mad at me. I mean, it was bad last night, but she's got a temper… I figured it would have blown over, by now."

I swallowed a drink of my coffee. "And it hasn't?"

"No! She still won't speak to me, and I don't think either of us slept all night! I mean, I did what she wanted… I got the rollaway in lieu of a couch, I didn't talk to her because she needed time to process everything… but she was out of the room half an hour ago. I mean, she's always loved to run, so I thought maybe she was doing that, but her tennis shoes were still in the room. She wouldn't run in just sandals, would she?"

I flexed and relaxed my jaw. "I guess I'm not sure. …I mean, she hasn't been gone long. I'm sure she's just fine." I said, thinking he was concerned for her safety. He sighed, putting his face in his hands.

"Yeah, I'm sure she is. Did you know they have a judge on staff? Like, a legal, US judge? So that people can get married on board. Or, you know, divorced."

I sat up straighter. "…You don't think she would… Jace, she's pregnant. I mean, don't you think—"

"I don't know what to think! I… She was so mad last night. I… was such an idiot. I mean, Sara has a temper and sometimes she just needs to let it out… I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to intercede to tell someone to just let her go off, because if you say something or lash back, you're screwed, but can I take my own advice? Of course not!"

I was trying my very best to follow. The most I got was that he said something to make it worse, in their fight. "…What did you say?"

He threw his hands up in desperation. "Oh, you know, the usual. I said she was overreacting, I said she couldn't make me sleep on a rollaway because I had paid for the trip—which was one of my more brilliant moments, let me tell you—Oh, and I accused her of having an affair with you." His head moved back into his hands. "God, the only male friend she's had in years, she doesn't talk to you for over a year, and I tell her she's been misrepresenting your relationship. I mean, god, you've got a woman!" He sighed, shaking his head. "…I'm just fucked, aren't I?"

I swallowed. He didn't know. There was no way he could know that I had kissed her and be listing the reasons why he was crazy to suspect an affair. Was it Sara's lie, or her friend's? I took a drink of coffee to stall, and then sighed, thinking that this was a major conflict of interests. Really, the man should not be seeking advice from me, and I would never forgive myself if the advice I gave him were too good or too terrible. I searched for some sort of vague, general cliché.

"Maybe… she just needs time." That worked. She probably did need time, and while she was taking it, she'd need company….

"She threatened to leave me."

"…What?"

"When I pulled the money card. She… said that if I believed making more money and being the man entitled me to power, then I could enjoy my money and my power while she took the baby and half my income for the next nineteen years. Otherwise, I should get used to the spare bed."

My eyes were wide, and I felt so very guilty that I was fighting back a smirk. I mean, I felt bad for him… you could tell that he genuinely loved her. But man, he was fucked.

I nodded slowly. "Then… I would definitely give her some time… and sleep on the rollaway."

The look he gave me was nothing short of pitiful, but I couldn't feel bad for him… I felt too good for myself. And one question kept circling—Sara's lie, or the bridesmaid's?


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, I know I said ten chapters, but it'll probably be more than that. Sorry. :( In the mean time, you can enjoy chapters like this!

I really like that several of you have picked up the acronym RTS (Rachel the slut) for Sara's friend. :) It makes me happy.

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Chapter Thirty Six:

I managed to avoid Jace most of the day. He found me around two and when I simply stared out at the ocean, still not speaking, he asked if I'd eaten. I had every intention of telling him that I had, with lots of hot, horny, single men… but my stomach growled, interrupting that thought. So I begrudgingly let him guide me to a vegetarian place he'd found on board. I wasn't really a vegetarian yet, but I had taken to making a lot of vegetarian dishes, thinking that it might ease my transition. He must have been really scared of the threats I'd made, because this place was pretty obscure… he had likely scoured the ship in an effort to find it.

I sat and ate with him, but I just shook my head when he tried to talk, whether about our fight or simply to small talk. …We would talk, eventually, but right now, I wasn't in a place to be rational, or to make life-altering decisions about our relationship. I thanked him for lunch, and told him I would need a few days to sort out my feelings. We'd be docking in Puerto Ayora the next day, and he told me he was worried about me exploring the island alone.

My biting response that I was worried about his role in ensuring that our children would never see sea otters or sea lions, because of the oil spills he was tacitly supporting, and he dropped it. I allowed him to hug me, though I left my arms limp at my side.

I did feel guilty for this. He was… trying. But the fact of the matter was that there was little else he could do that would be worse. It felt like… like I'd just discovered I'd been married to a serial rapist or Jack the Ripper. I mean, obviously not, but… but it felt that severe. And I didn't know how to deal with it… how to talk with him, after his deception. How could he have come on this trip with me, prepared to marvel at the beauty of our surroundings, when he knew what he was doing? …What he was keeping from me?

I ate with Dr. Grissom and Catherine again that night, in the main dining room, and there was another pang of guilt when I glanced down to see Jace eating alone, but I turned decidedly from it. We'd be on land the next day, and that would give me some amount of space to clear my head. Although Catherine seemed to have toned it down a bit. I counted two 'sweet cheeks,' one 'cuddle muffin,' and one gag-inducing reference to his 'little Gilly,' which had Dr. Grissom bringing his napkin to his bright red face to wipe away the soda that had come out his nose.

Seriously. _No_.

But, it was better. She didn't hang on him as much, she talked in a voice that was far more… normal. Less dumb-blonde. She was tolerable, and after the meal, she made herself scarce, saying she'd met some women on the ship who wanted to go to a ladies' night in one of the bars on board. She promised Dr. Grissom that she'd 'be a good girl' and 'make it up to him' later that evening, which caused him to cough and sputter while she laughed, kissed his cheek again, and waved to me. She had invited me along, but really, the whole concept was… painful.

And the way Dr. Grissom responded to her words made me think that that woman had to be all kinds of flexible for him to put up with her long-term. I mean, the thought of them together made me feel nauseous, but there had to be an explanation…

"Gil," he corrected me, the first time I used his title after Catherine had left. It made my eyes flicker back up to his, remembering the other times in which he had wanted me to use his first name. I smiled softly, and repeated it as I had before, as if I intended to use it. And, you know, maybe I would…

We walked along the decks, talking about the year we'd spent apart. It surprised me to realize how much about myself I'd confessed to him in those desperate days of indecision and though I expected this to make me feel uncomfortable, it did not. I also thought I would feel bitter that he had not come when he said he would. When I thought of my desperation, searching for him, I felt a pang of hurt come back to me, but for the most part, I was just happy to share his company.

Maybe, after the cruise, we could be friends.

Hell, if things didn't work out with Jace, maybe he could get me a job at the lab in Vegas. I mean, I knew it was a pretty prestigious lab, but my grades, test scores, and solve-rates were all off the charts. It wouldn't be like he was just hiring someone he knew who couldn't do the job. I could do it, and well.

And even if it would kill me to watch him with Catherine-the-dumb-whore… Well, I mean, if he was only with her for the sex… eventually he'd get tired of her. She was older than me. I mean, I had that going for me.

No, no, no. What on earth was I thinking?! I was pregnant. The best course of action for me and the baby was not to run off to Vegas and hope he would get sick of fucking her and start fucking me… it was to make up with the husband who loved me and find a way to make this work. Had I not said 'as long as we both shall live'?

But in the mean time, I could be friends with… Gil. I mean, Jace and Catherine both seemed like the idea of gallivanting off into the jungle was less than appealing to them, and, well… we would love it. There was no harm in that, was there?

The year he described to me, in which we'd been apart, seemed… vacant. He described cases… changes in the seasons… Catherine's little girl, although these stories were short lived, probably in large part because of the face I made when he started telling them. But they were the only ones with any life in them. It did not seem like he had really lived at all, in the year we'd been apart.

For my part, I talked about cases, Jace's job, and now, being excited about the baby… decorating a room and looking at names and being uncertain if I wanted to know the sex before her or she was born. I talked about the charities we'd been donating to, and the Woman's shelter I'd been volunteering at, and my thoughts on becoming a vegetarian…

He watched me with rapt attention, so much so that I felt myself blushing under his gaze, feeling thankful for the darkness that was slowly creeping around us. When a silence fell over us, he glanced at me with a little hesitation, but seemed to urge himself onward.

"…Jace came to talk to me this morning."

I looked up at him in surprise. "Oh?" I looked away, feeling anger seep back through me, and being uncertain if it was another damned mood swing or if I was honestly still so upset that the mention of his name had me clenching my fists.

"…He's worried you're going to divorce him on board."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "I would have to use _his_ money to do that, though."

He ran a hand over the back of his neck, like he was thinking deeply about how to word his response. "Do you… regret… marrying him? I mean… in light of…everything."

I looked up at him, his curls shining with a pearly, luminescent glow in the moonlight. "…He's not the person I thought he was." I say, because that is such a loaded question. What do I say? Yes, at the alter I looked for you but you weren't there, so I said 'I do' anyway?

He pursed his lips. "Sara… don't you think that… he should be madder at me… for what happened in… San Francisco?"

I stopped walking, turning to look at him in surprise. I was under the understanding that we were not talking about San Francisco. Did we really need to relive that horrible moment in which I had realized that everything was not as it should be and turned to look for him to find him noticeably absent? I mean, to what point and purpose? Did he want to apologize? Or explain? …I didn't need it. I just didn't want to talk about it with him. After a long moment and a shake of my head, I kept moving.

"He doesn't know, so he shouldn't be mad at all."

"Oh… Sara—"

"I'd rather not… drag all of that back up again. You know?"

"Oh. …Right, no, I… I understand."

I gave him a grateful smile and sighed. "You can tell how far we've travelled… it's nearing ten at night and I'm still sweating."

He grinned. "I think I must be used to it… Vegas. But, if you're hot… Why don't we take a dip?" I turned surprised eyes on him, but his smile was so boyish… so happy. He nudged me. "Come on. This is supposed to be a vacation… you should enjoy yourself."

We picked a pool to meet at and I went back to the room to change, grateful that I didn't run into Jace in the process. He was there when I got there, and the pool was surprisingly deserted. There was no bartender on duty though, so that probably explained things. I paused at the edge, watching him, because he hadn't realized I was here yet. He was in the midst of a powerful front stroke from one end to the other, the muscles in his back shining in the dim lighting as they flexed with his movements.

I swallowed, dropping the swimsuit cover-up I'd donned onto a lounge chair and turning back to him as he reached the opposite wall and stopped, wiping water from his eyes and turning to look at me. I quirked a half-smile, tilted my head, and moved to the stairs between us, stepping slowly into water that was refreshingly cold, though it had me crossing my arms over my chest. He smirked and did a lazy breast stroke over to me, coming to stand beside me.

"…Hi."

"Hi." I greeted, blushing under his gaze once again. Why couldn't I stop doing that? His eyes flickered, lightning quick, from my face to my chest and back again, and I blushed further, smirking. Voluptuous girlfriend the man might have, but apparently there was still something that interested him. I grinned. "I told you I had an innie."

He frowned, "…What?"

I raised an eyebrow, moving my crossed arms to place hands on my hips instead. His eyes flickered down and up again. "…Well, I assume that's what you're looking at, when you're not looking at my face. My bellybutton, right?" He blushed this time, and I felt myself beaming. He still wanted me! I mean, maybe not in the forever sense… not in the leave-your-husband-for-me sense… but it was still empowering. I laughed. "What would Catherine say?"

"Something vulgar, no doubt."

I laughed, letting my eyes slide slowly over his chest and down to his stomach, taking in the thin line of hair there. "…You've got an innie too." I let my eyes move up to meet his and watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Sara…"

I shook my head. "I don't want to talk about it… Gil. I… We both made choices that we can't take back. …Let's just… live in the moment."

"Sara… Catherine isn't—"

"I get it. …She's beautiful, great body, probably really flexible. …I mean, it's better than using the hookers in Vegas, right?"

He took a step closer to me and I shivered with the warmth he was exhibiting. "I really want to kiss you, right now." I opened my mouth, already stepping back, but he caught my arm above my elbow, softly brushing my breast in his effort to hold me in place. "I won't. …I mean, I… I know that you're…" He took another tiny step forward, leaving us still not touching, but so close that the hairs on my body were standing up, tingling with his presence. "…Do you remember what it felt like?"

His voice was low and husky and I shivered again, this time more visibly. He grinned and I took a deliberate step away from him. "Dr. G—Gi—Grissom. Dr. Grissom. I… I really have to go." I hurried back up the stairs, grabbing my swimming suit cover up on the way, not bothering to stop to put it back on, and rushed to my room.

I was relieved to find it empty again and slid into the shower to calm my trembling hands. A half hour later, when I stepped out of the bathroom in pajamas, he still wasn't back. I laid his pajamas out on the rollaway, not because I was trying to be nice, but because I wanted there to be no question about where he would be sleeping. I crawled into bed, rolling onto my stomach, thinking that despite the thrumming in my body and the racing in my mind, I might actually find sleep fairly easily after the sleepless night before. When my hands slid under the pillow to bring it more snuggly to my face, they hit something hard.

I sat up, pulling it out. A black velvet jewelry box. I opened it, finding within something large and glittery and gaudy. If we had still been hurting for money, it would have meant something that he had spent so much… but now, all I saw was that he still had no idea of my taste… no concept of what I would really want from him. If he had put a copy of his resignation letter with the date it was sent on the top, we might be in business, but this thing…

I tossed it onto his rollaway and settled back into bed, exhausted.


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: First of all, I want to thank JBCC who inspired a section of this chapter, and secondly, I want to warn my lovely readers that Catherine is a little... obscene... in this chapter. I debated not having it at all, but... it was too funny! :) So, read with caution.

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Chapter Thirty Seven:

The way Sara reacted to me told me several things—1) She still wanted me. Bad. 2) She wasn't ready to leave Jace. At least not yet. 3) She more than likely had not been the one who lied about Jace knowing about us. Otherwise, why wouldn't she have kept up the lie?

So I needed to approach this carefully. I needed to get close to her again, ease back into her life. If I threw everything on her at once, she would run away like she had last night. …Because she knew that she wanted me, and she didn't know what to do with the information. She wasn't yet at the point where she would consider leaving him… and while I knew that the longer I waited, the more likely she was to forgive him, if I rushed it, she might just rush back to him because he was safe.

Hadn't she done as much in San Francisco?

She ate breakfast with Jace, though I watched them from the side of my eyes and it did not appear that she was yet speaking to him. Once she was done, she came over to our table, inquiring what we were doing for the day and if we minded if she tagged along. I was worried Catherine would say something about having 'alone time,' but instead she welcomed Sara warmly. I was certain, then, that my words had sunk in and that she would not be so… Catherine.

I was wrong, of course. We had a short wait once we were actually in Puerto Ayora while the ship docked and anchored and… did all the other things ships have to do. We sat on the deck, in the sunlight, Catherine once again in shorts and a skimpy little tank top. She already had a fruity drink complete with umbrella in front of her, despite it being just past ten in the morning, and she was talking about everything she'd read about the town. She wanted to explore, visit shops, get something cool for Lindsey…

Sara, in shorts just as short as Catherine's and a far-more-modest t-shirt, sipped her lemonade and joined Catherine in conversation, saying that she'd love to find something for the baby—some sort of keepsake for his or her first vacation. Catherine smiled warmly at her, and I watched in surprise as the two women seemed to have a moment in which they honestly connected. It made me feel… almost lonely.

I mean, the two women who mean the most to me in the world (with the exception, of course, of my mother) were having this moment over motherhood, and not only did I not understand it, but I had no place in it. I was father to neither child, or to any child. I drank deeply from the soda in front of me, hoping the subject would change soon.

It did, but it made me wish we could go back to the motherhood discussion—Jace approached our table, bearing a refill of Sara's lemonade and the request that he be allowed to explore the city with us today. I wanted to say no, but I didn't want to raise his suspicions… Catherine tossed her hair and batted her eyelashes. "Well… if it's okay with Sara, I think it'd be a _pleasure_ to have you…"

I looked at her in alarm at her words before it clicked—Sara was the one he was really asking. And if she felt threatened by Catherine spending time with Jace, she'd be more likely to tell him no. I turned to see what she was thinking, and though she had scowled at Catherine's words, she had her eyes focused on Jace in a way that was not soft, but not nearly as hard as I expected. …What was she thinking?

She sighed softly, and her voice was soft as well. "You can come, Jace, but… this doesn't mean we're better. It just means… it means that I'm a sucker and I feel guilty making you do everything alone. So don't expect anything."

Jace beamed, Catherine put on a grin that did not hide the way her eyes turned down in a frown, and once again I drank deeply. Couldn't he just disappear for a day or two?

Despite his presence, the day was surprisingly enjoyable. Catherine dragged us through innumerable shops, though it seemed like after the first twenty minutes, she had developed an eye for which ones would only have cheesy t-shirts and lighters and which ones would have more unique items. Jace followed Sara around like a puppy, but she hardly spoke to him. Instead, she went back and forth between Catherine and I, remarking on a set of Christmas ornaments made entirely out of seashells or on cute onesies with clever phrases.

We went back on board the ship for lunch, mostly because Jace threw a fit about Sara not eating anything local… and once he brought it up, she agreed, placing a slender hand over her still mostly flat stomach. Which, you know, I guess makes sense. …It would kill Sara, if something happened to the baby. I wouldn't want that in a million years.

It was when we were walking back, intent on seeing some of the local sights, that the most notable thing of the day occurred. Catherine had managed to distance Jace from Sara, asking him about any number of things—cars, his work, his workout routine—and Jace seemed to like having a beautiful woman flirt with him, since his wife was giving him the cold shoulder. Sara, focusing on reapplying sunscreen as we walked ahead of them, didn't even seem to notice, but I was listening.

"I can't believe Gil is planning to go off without you," he said, when she informed him that she was probably going to be spending the next day on a local beach sunbathing, because I would be off searching for bugs or something else 'science-y.' I scowled at this, not liking him flirting with Catherine, even if she wasn't really mine. It wasn't jealousy—it wasn't even remotely what I felt when I thought of him with Sara—it was just minor irritation. I felt like the man was slighting me, because he was clearly under the impression that he was flirting with my girlfriend in front of me.

The fact that she wasn't didn't mean it was any less of an affront.

She laughed. "Oh, you have no idea the things I put up with for that man… He's got this fetal-pig-in-a-jar in his office… the guys call it 'Miss Piggy.' Oh, and then his spider… I like to tease him that I have to speak in Latin to get him hard." Oh, god, my ears were burning. Hadn't she said she was going to tone it down? Like the 'Little Gilly' comment hadn't been enough…

Jace snorted, a little too maliciously. He was not laughing in a good-natured way, the way Catherine was. …Maybe he was starting to resent the time Sara was spending with me instead of him. "There's something wrong with that… beautiful woman like you, he should have his hands all over you constantly. Instead, he seems like he isn't sure he wants to touch you."

I could tell, without turning around, the expression on her face. She had laughed, but it had the ring of falseness—I knew her eyes would be a little harder, a little narrower. Catherine was the definition of a Mama Bear, and apparently, in this instance, I might as well be Lindsey. "Believe me, he's just old-fashioned. He doesn't like PDA. But when we're alone…"

"You have to blow the dust off his candle before lighting it?"

I wanted to turn around at that statement, but Sara's left hand had just dipped into her now-generous cleavage, rubbing sunscreen in, and I didn't want to have to tear my eyes from the show just to defend my honor. Catherine seemed to be doing just fine, and I wasn't supposed to be listening…

"Excuse me," she said, her voice rising, drawing Sara's attention away from those smooth, silky mounds to the pair behind us, "but you're not exactly in your early twenties either. Gil is a fantastic lover!"

Jace had the decency to look embarrassed, but he must have been feeling the strain of Sara's silent treatment, because I had never before seen the man even a little mean, and yet he didn't back down. "Yeah, once he gets himself worked up looking at his insects…"

She tossed her hair. "Do you know what his nickname for me is? In private?"

Jace's eyes flickered to Sara, who was now turned around, watching him with her hands on her hips. He wilted. "No… No, I don't and I'm sorry, I shouldn't hav—"

"Cuddle Muff." Her eyes flashed, and though I wasn't sure I knew what she was getting at, I knew I wanted to stop it.

"Catherine…" I warned, but she ignored me.

"It's a play on my pet name, 'Cuddle Muffin,' except it's referencing a very specific part of my body…"

"Catherine!" I said, but she rushed on.

"Because, with or without bugs, he loves to bury his face in my—"

"Catherine!" I said, this time catching her by the arm and dragging her backwards, away from the pair. But no, no, she wasn't done.

"And from what I hear, Sara introduced him to something San Francisco is famous for!"

I didn't understand the reference… trolley cars? Rice-a-Roni? Gay People? The bridge?

"What's that?" Jace asked, and I pulled Catherine further away, finally out of sight.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?!" I demanded. She blew upwards, causing her bangs to move out of her eyes.

"I was defending your honor, Gil. You _could_ say thank you!"

"Reminding Sara of all the things she thinks we do behind closed doors isn't going to help me! …What was that San Francisco comment?"

She snorted, and a little blush filled her cheeks. I mean, honestly, I've known the woman a long, long time, and I have never seen her blush. "Oh… You probably don't want to know. That comment… was probably crossing the line a little bit."

"You think? I don't know what you were going to say, but either way it implied that something happened!"

"It didn't?" She challenged, and I huffed.

"He doesn't need to know that!"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine, I'll back off. I just… I got defensive. I didn't like what he was implying. …Only I get to do that."

I sighed, releasing her. "…Do we catch up with them or… what? I, god, I don't even know how to handle this."

She giggled. "Follow my lead, hot stuff."

I groaned out loud and she tossed her hair again, leading us back out to where Sara was leaning against a railing, waiting for us, and Jace was pacing angrily, clearly not pleased but getting no reaction out of Sara. She smiled at both of them.

"…I'm really sorry for the outburst. I haven't been getting nearly as much of my beauty sleep as usual on this trip. Jace, honey, I'm sorry I went off on you… Next time you rudely insult my lover and his abilities, I won't lash out, I'll just pity Sara. Jealousy breeds enmity, after all." He opened his mouth to respond, but she'd already moved over to the brunette who had her arms crossed, her eyes fixed on the cement beneath her feet. "Sara, you know, I think I saw a mobile in one of the windows we passed… maybe you could find something for the baby in that store…"

And just like that, we were walking again. Except, the women were leading, and Jace was back with me. I wanted to avoid a confrontation altogether, but not to the extent that I would be willing to noticeably speed up to avoid him. And a confrontation seemed to be what he was looking for.

"…What did she mean? What did Sara show you in San Francisco?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "She was being vulgar, trying to upset you. Sara didn't show me anything. …She's always been very faithful to you." I realized too late that there was a bit of an edge to my voice, and it gave me away. When he looked up at me, I knew that he finally saw some of what was going on. He realized I wanted her, maybe even realized that I loved her.

"…She's married. She's my wife and she loves me. We… we're going to get through this, and in the meantime, you just need to stay away from her!" His voice was low, so that the women wouldn't notice, but although I'm a man who avoids confrontation, I don't hesitate to address it when it occurs.

"…Well, considering that _I_ am not your wife, I'm not really concerned with what you think I should be doing. And, if I'm not mistaken… telling Sara who she can associate with after the comments about the money and the bed… might just clinch your worst fears. So… what exactly are you going to do about it?"

He leveled me with a long glare, and I gave him an enigmatic smirk and a shrug and sped up to walk with the girls in time to hear Catherine ask, "Do you think they sell fish tacos anywhere here? I mean, I know they originated in San Francisco, but you'd think that it would have caught on, right?" The grin on Catherine's face was devilish, and the surprise on Sara's was… telling.

Apparently that was what San Francisco was famous for. …How very classy, Catherine.


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Things are starting to come out. ...This chapter makes me feel sad. :(

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Chapter Thirty Eight:

I couldn't decide if I loved or hated Catherine.

I mean, maybe I had both in equal measure. I liked that she ripped Jace a new one, and I liked the way she defended Dr.—Gil. I didn't like that she was constantly reminding me of what I didn't have. Still though, we had kind of reached a truce… and I ended up purchasing the mobile she'd seen in the store. I made a point of using cash rather than one of our traveler's checks (no credit cards accepted), and Jace came up behind me when I did, a hand on the counter on either side of me.

"…You don't have to do that, honey. It's all _our_ money."

I stiffened beneath him and turned to face him, speaking softly so as not to make a scene. "The difference, _honey_, is that the money I bring home is for saving lives and bringing justice. …The money you bring home is at worst blood money… and at best, the product of turning a blind eye to the horrors of the world. …So I think I'll pay in cash, thank you."

I took my purchase and moved away from him, moving to where Catherine had discovered a beautiful handmade doll that she wanted to get for Lindsey. She grinned when I told her it was a great idea, and moved over to buy it, leaving me with Gil once again. I smiled softly at him. "I… I'm sorry about Jace… earlier."

He smiled. "It's nothing… Listen, I was planning to visit the research center tomorrow morning, see Lonesome George, and then… I was thinking maybe we could go snorkeling. Just you and me."

I frowned. "…What about Catherine?"

He shook his head. She wouldn't be interested in the Center, and the snorkeling is… well, I picked a place that was fairly shallow. I thought… I wasn't sure about the baby, so the water is only about 4-6 feet deep, where we'll be going. …I don't think Catherine really wants to be that close to fish…"

I couldn't help it, I felt a leaping excitement inside me at the proposition. "Yeah… That sounds like a lot of fun."

And then, Jace was behind me again. "Sara, I don't think snorkeling is a good idea in your condition…"

I huffed in frustration, ignoring him. "I would love to."

"Sara—" Jace started, but Catherine appeared in our midst again.

"Are we ready?"

The rest of the day was… well, I wouldn't say peaceful. Jace was sticking closer to me than ever before, constantly touching me, to the point that I was feeling claustrophobic. It was far too hot to have his constantly wrapped around me like he was doing an imitation of an octopus. I found excuses to not stand by him, simply because he would be all over within minutes, somehow thinking that my willingness to remain in proximity meant I was also willing to be cuddled standing up.

I broke off from the group when we returned, taking a shower and freshening up for dinner, only to find Jace sitting on the bed when I came out of the bathroom. I jumped, surprised to see him, but shook my head and moved over to my suitcase to retrieve my makeup bag. He cleared his throat, but I didn't look up.

"…Did something happen in San Francisco?"

I turned to him in surprise. "…I'm sorry?"

"Catherine, today, and then… Gil said something… that you'd always been faithful to me. …The way he said it made it sound like… like you almost weren't. …Like he didn't want you to be."

I looked at him for a long moment, and then sighed. "I met him the night of my bachelorette party. I didn't know who he was. We… became friends, after I saw his first lecture. He… said there was an obvious connection. …He wanted me to leave you, to try things with him."

A sob bubbled up from his lips, and I felt immensely guilty. He covered his face. "And you… were attracted to him too. …Not enough to cheat or leave me, but enough to… to make you not talk to him after he left. …Enough to make you not want to approach him in the pool, or meet his new girlfriend." I swallowed, watching him through dark eyes. Another sob escaped. "And now that… I've done this… Sara, he all but told me that he's pursuing you. He still wants you! …Tell me you're not going to leave me for him!"

I sighed, despite my heart racing at his words, moving over to sit next to him, drawing him closer to me and hugging him. Another sob slipped from his lips. …I had never seen the man cry like this. I mean, sure, the occasional tear at traumatic events… but not sobbing. He was scared to death he was going to lose me. I held him and rubbed his back, laying kisses to his temple. "Jace… Listen to me, okay? I… I don't know what's going on with us right now. I… don't know how I feel about all of it. …But Gil isn't a part of that. He's moved on, and… obviously I've been presented with this choice before. I think it's pretty clear what choice I made."

He looked up at me, desperate, and kissed me passionately, his cheeks still wet with tears, but after a moment I pulled away. "…Honey. I'm sorry that… this is hurting you, right now. But I… I'm still not sure what to do about this. How I feel about… what you did. I don't want you to feel threatened and I don't want you in pain, but I'm not going to pretend that everything's okay when it isn't."

He nodded, wiping at his eyes, and I hugged him again, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before pulling from him and standing up slowly. "I'm… gonna go meet up with Gil and Catherine. You're welcome to join us…"

But he shook his head, slowly. "No, I… Sara, I'm not… myself… around them. Especially not… knowing how he feels about you. I know I can't tell you not to see him, but… having to see you two together… it brings out the worst in me. …I don't want you to see me like that."

I felt guilty again, and reminded myself sternly of everything I had learned about his company, and let my resolve strengthen. "…Okay. I'll… see you later then. Will you… at least make you eat something?"

He nodded, wiping at his cheeks stubbornly, the action making him look like a child. I wanted to reach out and hold and comfort him, and it was with effort that I turned to the door, deciding to go without make up, because if I stayed much longer, I wouldn't be able to make myself go at all. I was a sucker for a man in tears.

It bothered me most of the night, but I managed to push the thoughts away as we went to watch karaoke after dinner, Gil tasting each of my drinks beforehand to make sure they were alcohol free because, once again, my first of the night I had to spit out. But the way he did it without being asked struck me as so… considerate. I couldn't stop thinking about what Jace had said—Gil had more or less admitted that he still wanted me. That he was pursuing me. …Which wasn't necessarily a surprise, considering the way he'd spoken to me the previous night and our plans for the following day, but it was… interesting. It felt like I wasn't guessing anymore.

The only thing was… why didn't Catherine seem upset that he was tasting my drinks and laughing openly with me and breathing whispered jokes about the people singing into my ear, his arm slung along the back of my chair, his thumb stretching out to slide ever-so-gently along my shoulder blades before retreating again, as if he just simply couldn't keep from touching me in some small way.

And then he was breathing in my ear again, "…Do you want to go out onto the deck? Get some air?"

I glanced between him and her. "What about Catherine?" When I turned my head to speak, it put our lips in direct proximity. My breathing hitched, and he grinned.

"That's what I want to talk to you about…"

I frowned but stood up while he leaned over to her, said something that made her nod, and then moved over to me, guiding me out by the feather-like-touch of his fingers in the small of my back. I shivered as we walked out, and I wasn't certain if it was the cooler air, outside the bar, or his touch that caused it. I leaned back against the railing and he leaned beside me, his arm once again behind me, his fingertips still resting, just in subtle contact. I turned and looked at him, and he sighed.

"I tried to tell you last night. …Sara, Catherine isn't my girlfriend."

My eyes were wide and I had a sinking feeling. "Oh god… She's your wife."

He actually started in surprise. "What? No, Sara… she's just my friend."

I frowned. "I… don't understand."

"She… She started pretending, when we first saw you guys, because she said she could tell there was something between us. …Sara, I've been miserable this past year. The only reason we're on this cruise is because Catherine was worried about me… she needed some time away from the stress of her divorce, and she… she said she didn't want to see me burn out."

I tilted my head back. This was… a lot to take in. "…So… all those comments…"

"She was doing it to bother me… Sara, honey, I… I haven't been able to even look at another woman since you. I'm sorry that I lied… I mean, I didn't start it on purpose… I didn't know what she was doing. But then she said that… that it would put Jace at ease with me spending time with you and that… that it would make you show your feelings more… feel them more. …So you wouldn't be able to say that what you felt for me was… nothing."

"And you… You're telling me this because…"

"Because I've never gotten over you. …Because I can't help but believe that maybe you might still want me too."

I shook my head slowly. "I… I'm a married woman, Gil. I'm… pregnant."

"I know." He said, running a hand through his hair. "I… I don't want to pressure you. Really… we have roughly two weeks left though. I just… I want you to know where I stand, so you can make up your mind. Sara, at the wedding—"

"Don't."

"Sara, I—"

"No! …I… I can't talk about that. I can't, okay? Just… I know where you stand, yes? You accomplished what you meant to. …Tell Catherine she's a great actress."

I turned to walk away, back towards my room, and he caught my arm, pulling me back. "Sara, I need to—

"

"Please, Gil." I whimpered, my head spinning with all of this all over again. "I… I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"

He frowned and sighed, but nodded, and I turned and hurried back to the cabin. Jace was there, but when he saw me come in, change into pajamas, and curl into bed—and fairly early… it wasn't much past ten—it seemed like that was enough. He wished me sweet dreams and turned the lights off and the volume on the movie he was watching down.

I buried my face in my pillows, thinking that I could not, after everything I'd been through, be doing this all over again. There was no effing way.


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry it's a little short, but I'm exhausted. This will be the last update of the night, and it isn't the direction I expected to go next... but once I read reviews to the last chapter, Jace kept yelling at me. Soo, this is his response to accusations against his manhood. :)

Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Thirty Nine:

I woke up early the next day feeling very… conflicted. But I was excited. That was one emotion that was clear and unobscured—I couldn't wait for the day ahead of me. I showered, brushing my hair and throwing it into a ponytail while wet, hoping to prevent the inevitable frizzing it would do in the heat as it dried, and put on a swimming suit under shorts and a tank top. I sunscreened while Jace was still in bed, snoring softly. …Which struck me as odd, considering that he was usually an early riser. …Maybe his movie had gone late.

I went to go have breakfast in the main dining room, thinking that I would see Gil when he came in… but he didn't come. It was nearing nine thirty and I had been thinking for the last hour of how I might be able to convince someone on staff to tell me what room they were in, hoping he had just overslept, when Jace came in… looking, for the first time in a day or so, well rested. He'd showered, shaved… there were no bags underneath his eyes. And the shirt he wore was just fitted enough to remind me of everything I knew that was beneath it.

He sat across from me, remarking that he was surprised I was still here. He asked about my night, about breakfast, about the plans for the day…and when ten thirty came and passed, he asked if Gil shouldn't be here yet.

"Yeah, he should. …I don't have any idea which room is his. I left them at the bar, last night… it's possible they're sleeping in."

"Or having morning sex." He countered off-handedly, which made me snap my head back to face him. He shrugged. "It could happen… Catherine can't be all talk, can she?"

_Yes, she can_, I thought to myself. That was something I should definitely tell Jace. I mean, wasn't… wasn't I being deceptive, not telling him? Then again, I'd never told him about kissing Gil. Or, well, Gil kissing me… and me not pushing him away. Why? Because it didn't change anything. And this information didn't either—he knew that Gil was pursuing me. His relationship status was of no issue.

…There was really nothing I could do but wait. I mean, this was the most obvious place to meet. And if we both went searching for each other, we'd probably never find each other. One of us had to stay in one place. I ordered another beverage, and then an appetizer when I got bored enough to fool myself into thinking that I was hungry again. I justified it by saying that I was eating for two.

And in the mean time, Jace was talking to me… talking about how he'd seen on the information channel, last night, about all these things to do on the island… there were ferries to other islands, nature walks, glass-bottomed boat rides. His enthusiasm was catching. I started talking about how fun these things sounded with fervor… so when noon came and passed, I sighed and suggested we see if we could get on one of those boat rides.

I had been stood up. Just like at the wedding. Dr. Grissom was apparently not very reliable.

We went onto the island, and though it was not the thrilling, excitement-filled day I had been anticipating with Gi—Dr. Grissom—it was fun. We watched the wildlife beneath the boat, marveling at the marine iguanas and the bright undersea world, and when that was done, he suggested we go to the beach for a swim. We ended up joining a volleyball game that some other tourists had started, laughing and teasingly taunting one another.

My team won, and I felt amazing. Jace and I hadn't had this much… fun… in so long. He worked so much now, and he was so tired when he came home… it seemed like sex had been our only form of recreation for so long, and it was nice to spend time with him, laugh with him, in such a natural way, without any pressure. We strolled along the beach as the sun was setting, and when he took my hand, I let him. This was why I'd chosen Jace in the first place—he was reliable. He was warm and comfortable and always there… and Dr. Grissom wasn't always there. In fact, he seemed noticeably absent at the most important times.

"Sara…" Jace began, as we were walking back to the ship.

"Hmm?" I asked, my shoes in one hand and his hand in the other, my eyes still focused on looking for shells.

"I, uh… I'm going to quit my job. If I can get internet access on the ship, I'll do it tonight. Otherwise, I'll do it from the island tomorrow. I… I just wanted to make sure that I cleared it with you, before I did. …We're partners."

There was that pang of guilt again. I swallowed. "I, uh… That won't make this better, Jace. I mean, okay, it's a start but… the real problem is that you did it in the first place. You lied and you… didn't care about those things you knew they were doing. Not seeming ungrateful to people who were practically strangers at the time we discussed your other options took precedence over the valid concerns of your wife."

"But I can change, honey. It… I really did care, I just didn't think there was anything I could do about it. …I was wrong. …I'm going to try to be better. I'm going to try to deserve you… and the baby."

My hand moved to my abdomen, briefly, and I sighed. "I'll… think about it."

He beamed. "Thank you! Honey, I… I'm going to do whatever I can do to make this up to you. I promise!"

I nodded, absently, cursing the pang in my chest that told me I was settling… again. This was what I should want to hear. Fixing the problem and moving on as… a family. But it wasn't what I wanted to hear, and I knew it.

We changed for dinner and almost as soon as we entered the dining room, Gil was rushing up to me, Catherine in tow. "Sara!" He looked frantic. I frowned.

"…Are you okay?"

"No! I… I'm so sorry. I don't even know how it happened…"

I crossed my arms. "…You're not really making sense, Dr. Grissom."

At the return of his title, his eyes snapped to me in concern. "No, Sara, I… we were locked in our room. The door wouldn't open! We kept banging on it and calling down for help, but it was eleven thirty by the time they sent anyone, and it took them two hours to get the door open, and then I couldn't find you anywhere! …They don't even know what happened… they said it looks like someone messed with it, but they don't know how that's even possible."

"Oh." I replied, letting out a breath. That changed my view of him significantly… maybe he wasn't so unreliable. Maybe I shouldn't have spent the day with Jace when I had only really done so out of hurt that he'd stood me up again. …Maybe he hadn't stood me up in the first place. What had he been trying to say about the wedding?

"Listen," he frowned. "Let me make it up to you… Can we try to do everything we had planned for today tomorrow?"

"…Sure." I said, my mind reeling again. He grinned.

"Oh, good. Thank you! I was… so upset. I'm sorry if the day was ruined…"

Jace stepped up, his hand falling gently on my lower back. "It wasn't. I was more than happy to take Sara out for the day. …Honey? Should we head to our table?"

"Hmm? Oh… I… Sure. I guess." I frowned. Something just felt… off.

Gil spoke up. "What about… after dinner? We could play pool? …For old time's sake?"

"Yeah… that'll be fun. I'll… meet you after dinner."

"Great." He said, beaming at me. I let Jace guide me over, realizing with some amount of surprise that I was famished… and that once I'd finished eating a meal that could probably feed three, I could hardly keep my eyes open. It had actually been a rather long, exhausting day. I tried to go play pool, but it was a struggle… and by the sixth time I yawned, he gently told me that I was exhausted and that I should get some sleep.

He walked me back to my room, looking a little disappointed but saying in a heartening fashion that at least I would be well-rested for tomorrow. I hugged him gently goodnight, and disappeared into the room, collapsing in bed without even changing into pajamas I was so tired. That was true though… at least tomorrow I'd be well rested.


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: LOL, I'm trying to make Jace a sympathetic character, but you readers just want to hate him. :) You call him names and say that him crying is wussy, so then in my head he's going all macho and saying 'that's not true! I'm fighting for her!' so I write him fighting, and you guys still hate him. Really, he's a lover, not a fighter. And if he punched Grissom, you guys wouldn't be happy about that either. :P

Still, I'm glad you all care so much to be so emotionally involved. :) It makes my day. I guess I will just have to give up my attempts to garner sympathy for the one who is destined to be left behind. lol.

Enjoy! I plan to update again today, but the fiance has conferences tonight and then after that we're going to help my best friend move into a new place, so... it will probably be late. Just so you know. :)

* * *

Chapter Forty:

I was going to kill him! I was absolutely certain that it was him! First of all, the security tape of our hallway had "mysteriously" gone missing, but only an hour of it—apparently, the hour in which our door had been sabotaged, because no one else came near it in any of the rest of the tape. And the man who came to fix it, who introduced himself as Jack once the door was open, said he didn't understand it. It would take someone very skilled to mess with the doors, especially without leaving any mark behind.

I know it's crazy of me, but I had my kit with me. I printed the door, and the lock, and I even had Jack open it up so I could print the inside… nothing. Which was more suspicious than finding a few partials I would probably never identify. Someone had wiped it down.

Seriously, who would think that someone who fingerprint after a dumb prank? No one, except a man married to a criminalist. Who had any kind of motive to lock two strangers in their rooms for no reason? The man married to the woman I had had a date with. Who had the kind of money to make incriminating video surveillance disappear?

But I couldn't accuse him. If there was one thing I knew about Sara, it was that she needed to come to her own conclusions. I mean, if she hadn't been married to Jace, I probably could have suggested it and she would look at the evidence herself and come to a reasonable conclusion… but she was, and so she would feel defensive, unless it occurred to her.

I had intended for this to occur while playing pool, but she was exhausted. Which I understood… not only was she pregnant and had been staying up late and getting up early, but from the descriptions of her day, she'd been exerting a lot of energy. Walking everywhere, playing volleyball… So I walked her back to her room, in part because I wanted to know her room number for future reference. When I'd been locked in the room, we'd been able to call down for help, but I hadn't been able to call Sara's room… because I didn't know which one it was. And though I tried my damnedest, no one would tell me so I could contact her.

After she went inside, I read it carefully, repeated it to myself a few times, and then continued saying it over and over as I walked back to the room I'd been locked in, which I now had to myself. They had comp-ed us a suite as a way to apologize for utterly failing to deal with the door issue, but it came with a King-sized bed, which I was not sharing with Catherine. I let her take it—she had paid for the cruise, after all. Besides, now that I'd come clean to Sara, Catherine was free to find someone on board without worrying about the tie-on-the-door. Which she deserved, considering how Eddie had treated her before the divorce…

Strangely, I found myself lonely. I mean, not that I had wanted Catherine around constantly… but I'd kind of gotten used to being with someone. If not her then Sara. …How was I going to go back to my townhouse, alone, if just spending the first time in my cabin alone had me feeling this way?

Still, I forced myself to sleep, knowing how important tomorrow was, and woke up early to shower, dress, and make sure I could exit my room, well before I would have to meet Sara. She'd been tired, so I figured I'd let her sleep, and instead went to find Catherine. A knock on her door followed by a male voice saying "Just a minute!" had me cringing. No, I didn't need to see her that badly.

Instead, I went to the main dining room and had coffee until I was joined, half an hour later, by Sara, and then another ten minutes later by Catherine and someone who introduced himself as 'Cool Carl.' I frowned, but Catherine explained he was the DJ for one of the clubs on board… which, you know, still didn't explain why he used the name in casual conversation, but I said nothing. If she wanted to have vacation sexy with twenty-somethings with names like 'Cool Carl,' that was her business. After all, I was pursuing a married woman.

Sara ate and talked, seeming excited for the trip, and we took our leave from Catherine and her 'date' with everything working out better than I had expected. I mean, besides the delay of a day. She was excited, bright-eyed, smiles falling easily from her lips…

We took a taxi to the Research Center, visiting Lonesome George, believed to be the last surviving Pinta Island Tortoise (_Geochelone nigra abingdoni). _I watched Sara's face in fascination as I described their attempts to find a pureblood Pinta female, as he seemed to have no interest in breeding with the tortoises they had put in his enclosure with him—two females of a closely related species. She honestly shined when I talked about it… about efforts to turn what looked like the very last member of a species into a conservationist success story. Her eyes glowed.

"…Wouldn't you just love to do this? I mean… it would be so amazing to live here, to work at the center, to work on things like this that… matter."

I tilted my head. "…The things you do matter, Sara. You find justice for people… you punish those who hurt others, you find the truth, you… give people closure."

She shook her head a little desperately. "I'm not saying the things I do don't matter. I'm saying…" She sighed. "I'm saying that it would be amazing to make the difference before death. Instead of coming after the disaster… making it so the disaster never happens. Instead of saying 'We're working to make sure no other animals are reduced to one remaining,' you could say, 'I'm going to bring this species back to life!' You know?"

I grinned at her. "…Yeah, I know. Still, though, forensics has its place…"

She smiled. "Yes, it does. …Speaking of, did security figure out anything about your door?"

I shook my head, thinking deeply. I had to be careful with how I approached this. "No, they… the videotape showing the time when it must have occurred was missing."

"Missing?" She frowned. "That's strange… Do you think that means that whoever did it works with security?"

I shrugged. "Either that, or they have enough money to pay off someone on security. Though, they all looked like kids… they're in their early twenties. For a prank, a couple hundred would probably buy silence and the destruction of the tape…"

She exhaled. "God, that's just crazy… I can't believe somebody would do that."

"Jack, the man they sent to fix it and get us out, didn't even know how it was done. He said he couldn't believe it, and especially that there were no markings—the lock wasn't damaged in the process at all."

She shook her head. "It can't be that hard, if you know what you're doing. Jace can rewire a car's electrical system faster than anyone he used to work with. I mean, really, he's some kind of genius when it comes to…" Her eyes were wide, and it took everything in me to hide my grin. "I can't believe it!"

"…What?"

"Jace! I… He… Oh!" She stomped her foot, causing one of the little tortoises near us to hole up inside his shell. We chuckled softly at it and I turned to her, waiting. "…Jace must have done it. I know he's got the money, the ability, the motive… and I went right to bed, two nights ago. He could have slipped it and out and I would have had no idea. …You didn't happen to print the lock, did you?"

I smiled, "I did, but… nothing. All the employees who tried to get us out were wearing gloves, but still, you'd expect there to be partials from Catherine and I… nothing."

She huffed. "I know he's afraid of losing me, but… that's extreme. …Gil, I'm really sorry that he did that."

I shook my head, not liking that she was apologizing for him. It meant she was still thinking of the two of them as a 'we' rather than thinking of herself as separate. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault and… I mean, as long as you understand that I didn't miss our date intentionally, there's no harm done. In fact, Catherine's got her own room now, so he actually did her a favor."

She frowned. "How did that happen?"

"Oh, they gave us one that hadn't been booked to apologize for the door fiasco, but it's only got the one bed… I told Catherine to take it."

She smiled. "…That was nice of you."

I shrugged. "Chances are, she'll get more use out of it than I would…"

She smiled and blushed and pulled me over to look at something else. We ate lunch at the Research Center rather than going back to the ship, despite Sara's promise to Jace. She said that the food here would be as American as everything the ship had on board, so it was the same thing… and I wasn't about to argue. I didn't want to give Jace another opportunity to mess up this day.

Afterwards, we stopped to say goodbye to Lonesome George and then took a taxi over to the snorkeling company where we rented snorkels and flippers and signed release papers before boarding the boat which took us and a large group of tourists over to the area they'd advertised as shallow. There was another pregnant woman on board with us, looking like she was six or seven months, and that helped to put Sara's mind at ease.

When we arrived, we sat down to put on flippers and the masks and then grinned at each other, laughing at the way they distorted our faces, before moving into the water. For a while we simply walked around in the areas we could stand, our heads bent forward in the water, pointing to the bright, spectacular fish. At one point, she seemed to get her flipper stuck on a rock on the bottom and fell forward a little. I caught her hand to steady her, and kept it. And though she did not lace her fingers through mine, she allowed me to keep my fingers pressed to her palm, hers tucked safely into mine.

Eventually, we went to the deeper areas, which were still only about six feet, floating face down on the surface and occasionally diving down to explore something more fully, but never too deep. I wasn't sure what was or wasn't harmful, though I knew that diving wasn't recommended in pregnancy, especially early on. When she seemed like she was feeling more adventurous, I would guide her into shallower water, the brush of my fingertips against her bare stomach sending heat flying through my body and gently reminding her to be careful.

The way she shivered from my touch made me feel powerful and alive, though it made me wonder if she was getting my messages at all. Her eyes seemed particularly glazed if I allowed myself to touch her longer than just a moment.

We were tired by the time we were all climbing back into the boat, pulling off flippers and masks and returning them to our guides. Sara pulled out a sundress from a tote bag she'd brought, drying herself off and slipping it over her head before untying the straps of her bikini top and removing the item. I watched her with mouth agape, trying with everything in me to keep my eyes on her face and failing. She was wearing nothing under the thin fabric over her perfect breasts, and I swore I could make out the outline of her nipple, despite the blackness of the fabric and the heat of the day.

When she then proceeded, in our secluded section of the boat, to wiggle out of her bikini bottoms and into a fresh pair—swimsuit bottoms, not underwear, though I had been hoping…—I swear I nearly had a heart attack. Having not been nearly as prepared as her, I simply towel dried the parts of me which were exposed, hoping the sun would mostly dry my swimming trunks by the time we got back.

She didn't seem to mind though, her eyes shaking over my chest and arms, a sly smile crossing her face, the red in her face a mixture of flush and too much sun. I grinned and passed her the sun block, leaning back with my arms spread across the railing behind us, my sunglasses obscuring my eyes, to once again watch the show.


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Once again, I'm sorry it's so short, but this was all the time I had and now I'm not sure whether I'll be able to update this evening at all, soo... I wanted to get something up.

Let me know what you think! :)

* * *

Chapter Forty One:

I didn't know what I was going to do about Jace… but I knew that, this time around, I needed to be more honest with myself, even if it hurt him. Gil actually gave me the idea, when he told me they'd given them a suite to make up for the door issue. It meant that they had some rooms on board unoccupied… So when Gil and I parted back on the ship and he headed to his room to change, I headed to the office to discuss getting my own room for the rest of the trip.

I mean, hell, we could afford it… and I needed some space.

No, more than that, I needed… I needed to not be sharing a room with the man who had deceived me on more than one occasion. I mean, I admit it, I haven't been the best wife in the world. Especially not on this trip… but it was mostly a reaction to his actions. And I still didn't know if I could forgive them.

They ran the credit card, I signed the slip, I received my keys. It wasn't as nice as the suite I was staying in, but it was decent… and it was what they had. And because I'm a coward (and because I didn't want to find myself locked in all day…), I waited until Jace moved into the dining room and sat down before I hurried into the room to pack my things and take them to my new room.

Finally, I made it to the dining room and sat across from my husband. He smiled at me and tilted his head. "…Hi. Did you have fun today? It looks like you got a little sun…" He reached out to brush his fingers across my reddened cheek bones, but I backed away.

"…You broke their door."

He raised his eyebrows and sat back in his chair. "…I'm sorry?"

"You heard me. You paid the security guy to steal the section of tape that showed you messing with their door so they couldn't get out. Then, you pretended to have no idea why they weren't here yesterday, while I sat alone… and you tricked me into the spending the day with you."

He raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting theory."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, Jace. You're the only one with motive, and you had the opportunity, the ability, the resources… I investigate crimes every day. I can tell when the predominance of circumstantial evidence negates coincidence. I mean, really, do you think I'm stupid?"

He moved his lips from side to side, and then sighed. "No, I don't. Sara… What would you do? If you saw me, hanging on the words of another woman… eyeing her up? And if you told me that she had told you that she was pursuing me, and I still continued to spend time with her?"

"Like the receptionist who grabbed your ass who you refused to fire because she was the only competent one out of the last seven you'd hired?"

"I…" He stopped, frowning, and I nodded.

"Exactly. As long as nothing crosses that invisible line, I'm not doing anything you haven't done. And believe me, I'm far more likely to leave you because of what you did—what you kept from me—than because of Gil."

"But you admit you're attracted to him."

I sighed. "Yes, I do. …But I can also tell you that if you had done nothing wrong, it would have taken hell and earth coming apart to make me even consider breaking up our family. …It's your actions that have put me in this position… made me feel this way. I don't… I don't even know you, anymore."

"Yes you do, Sara! I'm still the same guy you met and fell in love with…"

I swallowed. "Then maybe I never knew you to begin with. I… need some time. I want… a break, from you."

"What? Sara… What are you talking about? I'm your husband… we're having a baby!"

"I know," I nodded. "And I don't take any of that lightly… but I don't want to make decisions because you're there, making me feel guilty. I… want to make decisions based on where I want to go, in life, from here. …I promise, this is far less about Gil than it is about us."

"So… I don't understand. What are you going to do?"

"…I got my own room. I… I want to spend some time apart. …I want to have some time to think."

He scoffed. "So, what? On our honeymoon, I'll be alone in our suite waiting for you to make up your mind?! …Waiting for you to decide if you want to keep fucking him or come back to me?!"

My eyes flashed and I stood up, moving closer to him and speaking in a low voice, because he had drawn the attention of several other tables with his last statements. "…Honey, let me be as clear as I can be about this—You are going to be alone on our honeymoon because of the mistakes you made. And believe me, since your door stunt got Catherine a separate room free of charge, if I were fucking him, I wouldn't have bothered to get my own room."

I walked away from him, angry again, but thinking not for the first time how stupid it was to do this. Chances were, Gil was attracted to me but… but he really wasn't ready to be in a serious relationship with a struggling single mother. Which meant that walking away from Jace was walking away from the financial security and stable family life I had always told myself were necessities before I ever considered bringing a child into the world.

I went down to eat with Gil and Catherine, who had apparently gotten sick of 'Cool Carl' because he was nowhere to be seen. I wasn't sure that I wanted to tell them, yet, that I had gotten my own room. It seemed like such a big step… It felt like I was telling Gil that I wanted to be pursued, and I wasn't sure that I did. …There was a lot to be lost in giving up Jace. It wasn't a decision I took lightly and I hadn't been lying when I had told him it had more to do with his mistakes than my attraction to Gil.

I valued my family and the life I wanted my child to have far above my own happiness. …Not only that, but I knew for a fact that I could find a level of happiness with Jace, even after knowing the Gil existed and had wanted me. …But could I forgive the man his deception? I didn't know.

That night Catherine came with us to play pool, and she even managed to talk me into going to get a massage with her the next day before being swept off by a tall, dark, and handsome stranger who wanted to buy her a drink. Gil played even better than he had before, although I had been fairly certain he'd been missing on purpose at the time. We got very competitive, to the point that when I bent over to make a shot, I would feel him standing very close behind me, making my whole body go on alert and my hands tremble.

Needless to say, leaning in and breathing against his ear had the same effect, and before the end of the night, we were both playing much worse than in the beginning. When we left, once Gil told Catherine that he was going and made certain she was okay, he offered to walk me to my room but I shook my head, telling him that I would be fine, mostly because I still wasn't sure I wanted him to know. I felt like it was an invitation that I wasn't ready to give. He looked reluctant, but he let me go, and I hurried down to it before locking the door and collapsing in bed.

It had been one of the longest days of my life.


	42. Chapter 42

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Once again, it's a little shorter than I intended it to be, but it's been like the longest day of my life. It rained this morning, and being in a room with eight one year olds who have too much pent up energy is... terrible. I hokey pokey-ed for like, honestly, forty minutes this morning. And that was just one of our large-moter/tire-these-kids-out-before-lunch-and-nap activities. You wouldn't think it's exhausting, but the tenth time around, it gets to you...

So, I'm going to post it a little short, and take some me-time before class. Ugh. :)

* * *

Chapter Forty Two:

I don't know how Catherine talked me into this. We paid for a 'Couple's Massage' because she said we'd be able to talk that way… and I had agreed, without really thinking it through. Now, I stood with my hair wound up with a sheet wrapped around myself, scared to walk into the room where I would lay down, naked, on a bed… and talk to Catherine while people touched me.

Yeah, I… really wasn't sure about this.

Hearing Catherine's voice behind me spurred me on, however—I wasn't going to let her see me hesitating, and if I could get in and situated before she was even in the room, I would feel better about that. So I rushed into the room we'd been directed to, plopped onto the table before realizing my feet were in the hole for my head… I spun around quickly, rearranged the sheet, and did everything I could do to slow my breathing down as the door opened and Catherine came in.

"Hey Sara… God, I can't wait for this. It's been years since I treated myself like this…"

She laid down on the next table over and when it sounded like she was lying still, I chanced a glance. She was covered, her hair up like mine, her eyes already closed. "…What about you? You get a lot of massages?"

I laughed softly. "No… I never have time."

"Oh, believe me, in three months you're going to be wishing you could go three times a week. Your lower back is going to hurt like nothing else."

"Ugh." I groaned. "I'm not looking forward to that…" She laughed, and our massage therapists entered, introducing themselves and setting to work—I felt goose bumps skate down my spine as the sheet was pulled down and peeked at Catherine—her eyes were still serenely closed. I closed them again, feeling a little more at ease.

And really, once you got over the idea that someone you didn't know what touching you… it felt pretty good. Maybe I would have to start getting massages on a regular basis, if my back was going to hurt as bad as she said…

"So," I said, when I was relaxed enough to feel a little more confident. "…Tell me what Gil's like."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "You've spent more time on him this trip than I have…"

I peeked again. Her face was amused. I scowled and closed my eyes. "I know, but… people are different around different people. …What's he like just around you? Or, at work? In public?"

Catherine laughed again. "Well, he's definitely more playful around me than around others. …But you've seen that side of him. He's playful around you, too. …At work, he's… he's in his element. …Solving cases, doing experiments, drawing blood from new recruits…"

"…What?"

She laughed. "Yeah, don't ask. …But also, if you two end up going somewhere with all your flirting and coy glances, I would be very much afraid of his fridge."

"Why?"

"Oh, if he runs out of room in the lab fridge he just throws his experiments and blood samples into the staff one. …It's a problem.

I laughed. "I'll be sure to watch out…"

There was a brief pause, and then, "…Where… are you two… going with this?"

I frowned, "Doesn't he… tell you anything?"

She snorted in disbelief. "He didn't tell me anything at all. I figured out most of what I know in the moment I saw you two eyeing each other in the pool. Although him calling you "Mrs. Wendt" helped. …I think the only thing I didn't have figured out was… He said that you married Jace because you thought he didn't know what he wanted. …He was telling me that the game I was playing with the pet names and everything wasn't going to help him seem like he did know."

"…You think he does?" I asked, hesitant and a little doubtfully.

This time, when I peeked, she was peeking too. I blushed but she just smiled and closed her eyes again. "Yes, I do. …Sara, let me tell you a little bit about the Gil Grissom I know. He lives alone, in a townhouse, and rarely has company. The furniture is functional, the house is clean, and the walls are decorated with framed, mounted butterflies behind glass. …But the house isn't warm, and it doesn't feel… homey. It feels like a bachelor pad, occupied by a man who no longer delights in bachelordom. I often find myself asking him, when he says he ate here or saw a show there… whether he went alone or with someone. Ninety percent of the time, he's gone alone."

She sighed, "…He works doubles more often than he goes home on time, and this past year, since his conference in San Francisco, he's been pulling triples in record numbers. The first three months he was back, he'd maxed out on overtime in the beginning of the second week of the month. Brass, our supervisor, ended up signing forms allowing him to work over the allotted time, because he's one of the best—we couldn't do it without him. Although he came and gave Gil a stern talking-to about spreading out his overtime so he didn't have to do that… Sara… I've never seen the man actively pursue a woman before, although he's had his share of dates over the years. …And I've never seen him so…upset… so not himself… as he has been since San Francisco. …Why do you think I took him on this cruise? He was absolutely miserable…"

I chewed on my lip. Why hadn't he been at the wedding, if this had been affecting him so deeply and for so long? …Clearly I had to mean something to him, because he was actively pursuing me. She said she'd never seen him do that… She said he'd been miserable. …What had he been trying to tell me, before, about the wedding? Suddenly, that seemed like vital information.

"…What do you think… he wants out of life? I mean, he seems pretty comfortable operating alone…"

She sighed softly. "Right now, Sara, I think he just wants you. I told you, I've never seen him like this. …But, if you're asking if the man's a loner, he is. I mean, he's never going to be super social. He's a man who is… dedicated to his work, who likes his privacy and his me-time, and who is… very independent. I think he likes being about to fly out to give lectures or… race his cockroaches as conventions… without being tied to much."

"We're all finished here, ladies." One of the women informed us, and with a frown on my face I sat up, holding the sheet tight around myself, and let myself out to change in a hurry. Whether Gil had wanted me before or not… whether he'd really wanted to marry me, that day on campus when he'd dropped to his knees and begged me to choose him instead… things were different now. Even though he seemed to think about the baby a lot, I was inclined to think that that was wishful thinking on my part.

I mean, when we were snorkeling… He had touched my stomach often, and while I had thought he was communicating concern that I was putting the baby at risk by diving so deep, it was certainly possible that he had just wanted to touch me. I mean, when my arms were floating at the surface, they were above his line of sight… he was probably just trying to retain some contact… because he wanted me. I knew that much. …But a man who liked his independence and his privacy and his me-time might look at me and want to touch me… but he wouldn't want to give up cockroach racing conventions to stay home with a baby that wasn't his.

Which meant that… I had just been dreaming, thinking that he could be mine someday. …Thinking that all of this had been a misunderstanding. …Besides, there was no reason to believe I was going to leave Jace. I mean, his actions had been terrible, but could I really leave the man whose baby I carried, whose name I bore, and whose very being was at once so kind and so gentle that it was impossible not to love him? …Well, with the noticeable exception of how he'd behaved on this trip. But I couldn't expect him to be kind and gentle and rational when he believed his wife was going to leave him for a man he'd trusted.

I dressed in a hurry, hoping to get back to my room before Catherine came out, so I could avoid any further conversation or any invitations to lunch with her and Gil. It was our last day on the island, and I really thought the best thing to do would be to take some time for myself, go exploring, and clear my head. It'd be another almost two days at sea before we reached Costa Rica, which meant I would likely have very little time to myself. I managed to slip off the boat undetected and hurried into town—there was still so much we hadn't done, and I didn't mind going places by myself either. And it would be good for me, because right now, I just needed time to think.


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Hmm... Will this make my lovely readers happy, or sad? :) Probably both. Let me know! Haha.

Oh, and it's the last update for the night, probably. Staff meeting tonight and my boss talks and talks, and then CSI on DVR when we get home, sooo... yeah. :)

csiKathy--My fiance has been trying to convince me that he's reading my stories (he's not.) and reviewing. I asked him what his name was, and he used yours, because I had laughed and shared one of your reviews with him the other day. So, just so you know, I think you're a victim of identity theft... :P (Dumb boys...)

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Chapter Forty Three:

I had had breakfast with Catherine and Sara, before watching the women disappear off to their unexpected plans to get a massage and 'girl talk,' that particular phrase making me nervous. However, when Catherine found me reading and enjoying the sun, roughly where they'd left me a few hours previous, obviously having showered after her massage, asking where Sara was… it worried me.

I figured she was in her room enjoying a long shower… we waited another half hour before deciding to go to the dining room, thinking maybe she was already there, wondering where we were, but she was not. We waited an hour to order, and ate slowly… and eventually decided that she'd probably decided to take a nap and that she'd meet up with us this afternoon. Briefly, I worried that she might be with Jace. My heart ached at the thought, but he was her husband, after all. She wasn't cheating—the time she spent with me was.

I pushed it from my mind, until she didn't show up for dinner… I looked around for Jace, but he hadn't been eating in the main room on the days she ate with us, so not seeing him didn't mean much. I spent the evening walking the ship, hoping I would run into her, and even went so far as to knock on the door of the room she and Jace shared, hoping I would find her and not her husband… but neither answered the door.

I was still walking the ship around midnight, fretting that we'd left port and I hadn't seen her since—she was on board, wasn't she? She hadn't been left in Puerto Ayora, right?—when Jace called my name from one of the bars. And he was angry. He screamed at me about a number of things… fucking his wife, ruining his honeymoon, lying about Catherine… but the one that stood out was that I had hidden Sara from him all day. He was extremely angry that I had not allowed her to even spend a single meal with him.

He was quite drunk and the hurt was visible in his face… but I lost my sympathy for him when he swung back, thinking to punch me, no doubt, and tripped over a chair behind him, falling into a heap. I found a staff member to take him back to his room, but my mind was working frantically… No one had seen Sara since this morning, when she and Catherine had gotten their massage. Was she hurt? Did she get left behind? Did she fall overboard?

I was running down to their guest services desk at full speed, practically crashing into the counter as I came to a stop, gasping out my question. "Sara Si—Wendt. Room 312. Is she on board?" I said, knowing that they couldn't give me this information but that this woman looked young enough to not know any better.

The woman behind the counter was clearly not in as much of a rush as I was, and slowly tapped in the room number and then frowned softly. "There is no Sara Wendt in room 312. She transferred yesterday, to… 545. And… it looks like she came back on board around six o'clock this evening." She smiled blankly, but I was already running again.

She switched rooms… what did that mean? She was on board, though. She was probably safe. Probably just… just taking some time to think. Just deciding what she wanted to do, because I had thrown a lot onto her plate. …Probably sleeping, because God knows she's been running around like crazy, and she's pregnant. Aren't women supposed to be tired during pregnancy? Catherine was always tired, with Lindsey… and crabby. Catherine was really, really crabby.

I had to look at a map by the elevator to find my way, and run around hallways that were like mazes, thankful for the signs guiding me forward. And finally I was there, at her room. Her new room. Why had she moved out? Were they over? …I just had to know she was okay. I knocked with trembling hands, and my first attempt yielded nothing, probably because I had not knocked very hard. I wiped the sweat from my palms, balled a fist, and knocked more decisively.

And then I heard movement… The door swung open, with my beautiful Sara in a tank top and pajama pants, yawning and looking sleepy, her hair tousled. God but she was just so perfect… so amazing… and she was okay. She hadn't been left behind or killed or kidnapped or raped, and she wasn't curled up in bed with her husband. She was in a room, alone, safe, and dressed down for a comfy night in. My heart ached at the thought of being able to just curl up on a couch with her, wrap her in my arms, and know that she was mine.

I couldn't force words. I couldn't do anything but allow my gratitude fill me up as my fears for her safety washed away… and without even thinking of doing so, without consciously making the decision to do so, as I had the first time, I was kissing her. I had leaned forward, caught her waist in one hand and the underside of the right side of her jaw in my other, and pressed my lips to hers.

It was not gentle or sweet… not like the first one. It was a desperate, needful, passionate thing, and my knees nearly gave out when I felt her arms slide over my shoulders, drawing me closer, pulling me into her room. Distantly, I heard the door close behind us, but her tongue had just skated over my bottom lip and this captured my attention far more fully. I moaned softly, the hand at her waist sliding to her lower back and pushing up the fabric just enough to bring my fingertips in contact with her skin.

Oh, god, but she was soft. Soft and sweet. I broke the kiss to kiss down her jaw and along her neck, thinking that no one had ever tasted better. "Gil…" Her voice came softly, but it sounded like a half-hearted protest. …No part of her had protested when our lips had been pressed together. I moved up, taking her lips again, reveling in the feel of her responding to me again, no longer able to think too deeply about what she was doing.

I just didn't want to stop kissing her. I had no intentions of pushing it farther—she was the one who backed us up to the bed, sitting and backing her way up to the pillows while I moved with her, hand over hand, never breaking the contact with her lips. I kept my hands on either side of her, bracing myself, keeping me from tearing off her clothing, because I was worried that she wasn't certain… that we would do this and she would regret it and leave me behind because of her guilt.

But she did not seem to be similarly conflicted. Her hands clawed at my shirt and with some amount of hysteria I desperately sought to reassure myself that I was not, once again, dreaming this. But no, her scent was so close, all around me, her skin softer than my dreams could do justice to, and her lips… I had never, ever been able to replicate the real feel of them pressed to mine, in either dreams or idle fantasy. I put my weight on my knees when she dragged the shirt over my head, leaving my hands free to explore.

I hesitated, but I had waited so very long to touch her… to have her…

I slowly slid my hands up her stomach, delighting in the twitching of the muscles under my caress, the delicate feeling of her ribs, the surprise when I expected to encounter a bra and did not. I stroked her sides, I went back to kissing her neck, I settled myself between her thighs, I ran my hands through her hair… and then slowly starting tugging the garment up, when it seemed like she was not, after all, going to run.

I kissed her stomach, sliding my tongue in a neat circle around her bellybutton, her slender fingers moving through my hair and gripping it when something tickled or felt particularly good. I kissed my way up, sliding fingertips along the underside of her breasts, stopping to gently suck and then blow on the hard little peaks, the sound of her panting and gentle moans setting me on fire. I could die happy, just being here with her.

I looked up at her, still gliding my fingertips across the slope of her breasts, remembering vividly imagining doing such a thing when I had watched her rub in sunscreen, reflecting that this, too, was something my imagination had failed to adequately provide for my eager, wanting mind. I scooted even further up, kissing her again and pressing my hips gently downwards, positively trembling with the gasp that came against my lips and the whimper from deep in her throat and the bite of her fingernails in my shoulder blades.

I took her whole breasts in my palms this time, pressing my hips down more persistently, trying to ease the ache, while I squeezed them a little aggressively, not to hurt her, but because I was curious how she would respond… what kind of a lover she would be, in different situations. Did she like it gentle, or rough? Would she like it to always be different, or would she have old standby's that she would specifically want at certain times, depending on how she was feeling? Would she be conventional, in bed, or adventurous? …How would she react to the feel of me?

It didn't matter.

The pressure I applied caused her to gasp in pain. I immediately stopped, thinking that I had certainly been rougher with other women and not gotten that response… I moved back, onto my knees and the balls of my feet.

"Oh, god, Sara… I'm sorry. I… I didn't think I was… that rough."

She was now half-sitting up, a hand on each breast, her lovely features bowed into a frown. "I… It isn't your fault. They… they're really sore… right now."

And just like that, the baby was a chasm between us. I had forgotten, in the moment, that she was pregnant with another man's baby. Which didn't bother me, per se, although the idea of having sex with her, while she was… put me in much closer proximity to the concept than I had really thought about. Apparently, she had just come to a similar conclusion… because she was backing away from me, dragging her shirt up from the floor, her face flushed and her hands shaking and flustered.

"Sara…?"

"I just… I can't do this, right now. I… I'm really sorry, Gil. I… need some time."

Time. …She needed time. I needed her like oxygen, and she needed time to think. I grit my teeth, against both anger and grief, and nodded in understanding, though I wasn't entirely sure that I did understand. She pulled her shirt over herself again, and though it was inside out, the effect was the same—a physical barrier between where I had just been and where I was now. I sighed.

"I'm… sorry, Sara. I… didn't mean for this to happen, when I came here. I… was just worried, about you."

She nodded, swallowing hard. "I… I believe you."

"…I… guess I'll go."

She nodded again, blinking furiously. I wondered why she was crying—because she didn't want me to go? Because she felt guilty that this had happened at all? Because she was pregnant and emotional and likely to cry at anything and nothing? …Women. Seriously, who could understand them?

I moved to the door, paused, and then turned back to her, drawing her gently against my chest and kissing her forehead softly. "…I love you, Sara Sidle. I've loved you since the moment I saw you."

I released her and slid out the door, cringing when I heard the sob that followed the door closing.


	44. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: This chapter makes me all kinds of happy, so I figure it'll make my readers happy too. ...If I didn't lose them all with the last chapter's ending. :)

CSIfan3408... Was there any reason to be mean? :( This fanfiction writer loves Sara and Grissom as much as anyone! :P -mutters- telling sara... don't know what _she's_ thinking...

:) Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Forty Four:

I got sick that night. I don't know if it was stress, belated morning sickness, or my body reacting to the feeling of the ship being back out on open water again rather than just resting in the harbor, but I threw up most of the night. I dragged myself into the shower and into fresh clothes the next morning and went to the nurse, who gave me something to help with the nausea, because I was worried about becoming dehydrated while pregnant, but it made me drowsy.

That first day, I slept and slept for hours. Catherine checked on me in the afternoon, probably because Gil would be worried I was avoiding him, after the events of the night before. I explained and asked her to please tell both Gil and Jace that I was fine, but would probably be in bed for at least a day. Jace would have come, worried about the baby and anxious to find a way back into my good graces, but he still didn't know where my new room was. Gil did come, that evening, bearing Styrofoam containers and an apologetic smile.

"I… know they're not biodegradable, but it's all they would give me…"

I swallowed uncertainly, but stepped back, allowing him to enter. I had changed into clean pajamas after visiting the nurse, though they were wrinkled now, and I hadn't brushed my teeth since this morning… and I'd slept all day. I turned on lights in the dark cabin, turned off the old movie on the TV that I'd only half been watching while trying to fall back asleep, and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I came out, he had set up everything on the little bedside table, two containers of soup open with spoons beside them, resting on their covers, and two other containers open—one a salad, the other a turkey club with fries. He gave me a shy, embarrassed kind of smile. "I… wasn't sure what you could get down, so I brought… options."

I smiled softly and moved up close to him, hugging my gently, my forehead bent to his shoulder. "…Thank you."

His large hands hesitantly lifted to grasp my waist, hugging me back and simultaneously igniting a stream of sensual memories to come flooding into my mind's eye. I took a hesitant step back and sat on the bed, gesturing with my head that he was welcome to take the empty side. He moved around, sitting against the headboard, seeming at concerned with proximity, at first. I handed him the remote control, and without another word he turned it on and adjusted the volume, changing it from the movie I'd been watching—Gone with the Wind—to something more modern. I hadn't seen it, but I recognized most of the actors, and the plot was easy to pick up, despite having missed the beginning.

"…Did you eat?" I asked, glancing over the expanse of food he'd brought me, thinking that perhaps I should pick a soup and a meal and give him the other soup and meal.

He nodded. "With Catherine…I didn't want to make her eat alone, and I didn't think I could carry anything more." I offered him a smile and he hesitantly reached out and brushed a hair behind my ear. "…How are you feeling?"

"Better." I smiled. "The nurse said she didn't think I was sick… maybe belated morning sickness, but more likely just a reaction to heading back out to sea when I'd been used to the more subdued movements in the harbor. Tomorrow I'll stop taking the meds, see if it's any better… and if nothing else, we'll be anchored again the day after tomorrow."

I picked up the salad, noting the little containers, each with a different kind of salad dressing. I looked at them a little speculatively. Jace would have known my preference… but in the beginning of our relationship, would probably just have gone with ranch because it was the most commonly used/liked. Gil didn't know… but he hadn't been willing to say 'good enough.' Did that mean more than knowing in the first place?

I picked my dressing and ate the salad first before examining the soups—Broccoli Cheese and Tomato Basil. I closed the Tomato and slid out of bed, putting it into the mini fridge and then coming back to bed, sitting a little closer to him. We still weren't touching, but this seemed to put him at ease… make him think that he was not pushing limits by being here, after what had happened last night.

And what happened last night, let me tell you, it took everything in me to go on like nothing had happened. I hadn't felt so… alive… so right… in so very long. It wasn't just the newness of it—because the first time you get that close to someone, it's always exciting. But this was more than that… His hands on my body were smooth and soft and felt like they fit and contoured over my curves like a second skin. It was like we matched—like he was made to touch me, and only me. Honestly, once I was sharply reminded of what I was doing and what it meant… I wasn't sure if I cried because I felt guilty or because I didn't want him to go… whether I regret my actions, or regretted stopping them.

I finished half the soup and the turkey club before passing my fries to Gil and slipping back under the covers, partly because the air conditioning that had been running all day to fight the tropical temperatures had now made the room cold as the sun began to set, and partly because having a full stomach made me feel ridiculously sleepy again. I didn't mean to sleep—I kept my eyes on the movie, only glancing at him and smiling when he slid further down, so that his head was on the pillows, just a little higher than mine. I tried to keep my eyes open, but then he had rolled onto his side, his eyes no longer on the movie but on me, his left hand gently running fingertips in soothing, nonsensical patterns over my face and through my hair, feeling at once so intimate and yet so innocent. I absolutely could not keep my eyes open a minute longer…and when they closed, I felt such warmth… such peace.

I woke to the sound of my door opening and closing—he'd returned with breakfast, which was crazy, because I'd only just eaten supper. The washed-out light seeping under the blinds told me different—"I slept 'til morning?" I asked, in disbelief, frowning at the difficulty I found in speaking. He laughed softly.

"…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He set several more Styrofoam containers down on the bedside table and moved around the bed to sit beside me. "Go back to sleep," he said, running his fingers through my hair again. I shook my head, yawning.

"I can't… if I wake up, then I'm up. At least for a few hours."

"Come here." He said softly, and though I wasn't sure what he wanted, I moved to him without question, rolling to face him and, seeing his right arm out and up, allowed myself to be pulled in close, tucked into the crook of his arm, my body pressed up along the side of his. My eyelids fluttered closed. He was warm, and he smelled so nice. It was comforting. After a brief moment of uncertainty, I shifted, bringing my right leg over his to wrap around it, repositioned my head more comfortably, and let my hand fall square in the center of his chest.

He reached up with his left hand, the one not wrapped around me, and gently held my hand in his, and before I knew it, I was asleep again.

I woke up around mid-morning, the sound of his gentle breathing and the occasional snuffling snore sliding over me in the stillness of the room. I put off getting up for several minutes, just enjoying the proximity of him, but eventually I slid away from him, my stomach growling. He was wearing the same clothes he'd had on yesterday evening, when he'd brought me food. I frowned, thinking he must have slept here and that he couldn't have been very comfortable sleeping in clothes.

I peeked into the food containers, finding two servings of everything—he hadn't eaten, this time. I stuck the French toast into the microwave, thinking it wouldn't be amazing but would probably not be terrible either, and then took the phone as far away from him as it would reach, dialing Catherine.

"Wil—I mean, uh… Hello?"

"Catherine?"

"Sara?"

"Hi… Would you mind, um," I cringed, "bringing a fresh pair of clothes… of Gil's… to my room?" The gasp on the other end of the line had me rushing to explain. "No, no… nothing happened. He stayed here all night while I slept… taking care of me. I just… he's still in the same clothes and I thought…"

She chuckled, and I could hear the disbelief in her voice. "Okay, Sara. Sure… I can bring him some stuff. …If you're calling, he must still be asleep. Wore him out, did you?"

I felt my whole face turn red. "No, Catherine, really, I—"

"I don't want to hear all the torrid details," she teased. "I'll be over in about ten minutes…"

"Thank you," I sighed, wondering if she believed me and was teasing me, or honestly thought that we'd… I let my eyes close at the thought, but then forced them open. No. We hadn't and we… we wouldn't, so there was no reason to be thinking about it. I mean, we wouldn't. …Would we?

I hung up the phone and returned it to the bedside table and moved over to the fridge to see if there were any bottles of water left to give us something to drink—there were, but there were also four cups of milk and two cups of juice. Apparently, he'd made several trips before the last one woke me up. I smiled, pulling them out and then investigating the other food containers—two soup bowls with cereal in them, two omelets, two hash browns, six slices of bacon… He apparently thought I should be eating for three or four. The good thing was that we couldn't have been asleep for all that long, because they still felt fairly warm. I took the French toast from the microwave and replaced it with the other container and moved into the bathroom to change into something a little more presentable—because my printed pajama pants didn't exactly scream sexy.

…Not that I wanted that. I didn't. I just… I wanted my casual wear to look… modestly attractive? Still-pretty mom staying in? Yeah, I mean… that was what I was going for.

A pair of soft, black lounge pants and a comfy t-shirt—and a hair and teeth brushing—later, and I was walking out of the bathroom, feeling so much better than I had in… such a long time.

The knock at the door startled him and he sat up groggily. I opened it, frowning at the look on Catherine's face. "Hello Sara." She said, in a voice that was practically sing-song. She leaned around the corner, looking at the man's tousled curls and wrinkled clothes. "Way to go, Bugman!" I blushed and she laughed, handing me the clothes. "So, will either of you be coming out among the living today, or should I expect your new favorite activity to keeping you indoors."

"I told you, Catherine, nothing happened."

"No, I know." She said, winking at me. "Have fun, kids!" And with that, she was already moving down the maze-like hallways, away from us. I let the door close, looking over at Gil. He was running a hand over his tired face, brushing sleep from his eyes, glancing at me sheepishly.

"…I'm sorry, Sara. I didn't mean to fall asleep, here. I mean, I… I just wanted you to sleep a little longer."

I smiled and then frowned. "…You've been here all night. Didn't you sleep?"

He gave me an apprehensive half-smile. "I… moved to the chair, when I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. I… wasn't sure about… the bed."

I passed him his clothes. "I'm not upset. You can go freshen up, and I'll make the bed and set out food. It's been microwaved, but… it should still be okay."

The smile he gave me was grateful and… nothing short of beaming. He moved into the bathroom and I got us set up, setting the Styrofoam containers on the bed on our respective sides, the milks and juices on respective bedside tables, the remote control decidedly in the middle, for sharing.

When he emerged, I turned to look at caught my breath in my throat—he was shirtless. The last time I'd seen that chest, it had been above me, soft and smooth, the light layer of hair there encouraging exploration, while his hands moved over my abdomen, his lips and tongue—"Uh, you wouldn't… happen to have a large… t-shirt… I could wear?" He asked, interrupting my daydreams. "Catherine gave me this shirt she bought on the island the other day for me, but…"

He held it up. It said 'Please don't just use me for my giant…' with a large caterpillar crawling along the bottom, obscuring the dirty word. I giggled and he sighed dramatically. "She thinks she's being funny…"

I grinned. "It's kind of funny… I mean, you know, of all the animals that could cover the word… a rooster for the obvious, or even… a snake?" I giggled again. "But a cute little caterpillar? I mean, it's funny because you like bugs, but it's also funny because it implies…"

"Well, it's incorrect, in that implication, thank you very much." He said, his ears turning red. I felt heat flood my face and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep the words 'prove it' from slipping out. I swallowed and cleared my throat, moving over to my suitcase.

"I think I have a SFCL one that was too big for me…" I snatched it out and passed it to him, watching him pull it over his head to obscure the lines of his chest that had triggered such vivid memories. Was I crazy, thinking that I would never let myself touch him, like that? Never give in and be intimate with the only man who had ever made me feel so… complete? I cleared my throat again, looking decidedly away. "Well, uh… Should we eat?"


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: This is another one that I'm not sure if it'll make you guys happy or sad or both... there's a lot here. I didn't realize how long it was, but I didn't want to split it up.

I'm not sure when the next update will be... if I'm motivated, it might come tonight, if not, it might not be until tomorrow night. My fiance's neice is having her First Communion tomorrow... so it's a big family day. Not sure when I'll be home with time to write... :)

Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the reviews! Let me know what you think!

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Chapter Forty Five:

She didn't turn me away. She let me come close, again, and soothe her to sleep. She still watched me with the unmistakable hunger in her eyes that I knew so well, because it had been in mine ever since I'd seen her again. And the next morning, she curled up with me, slept against me… called Catherine for a change of clothes and set up a breakfast and… didn't seem like she wanted me to go.

I was certain that she would want me to leave, after breakfast.

But instead she curled back up to my side, yawning and saying that between being pregnant and the medicine, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stay awake for more than a few hours ever again.

"When's the last time you took it?" I asked, though I was fairly sure I knew—halfway through dinner the previous night she had gone to the bathroom and by the sounds that followed her washing her hands, it had sounded like she was medicating. Which, you know, I couldn't blame her for—I wouldn't want to throw up when she was in my room.

"Last night." She murmured softly, "but I still feel it…"

We slept into the early afternoon. When we woke, I went out for food again, Sara wanting to avoid Jace as tomorrow we'd be docking in Tambor Bay, Costa Rica. I didn't ask why she was avoiding him… I didn't ask why she got her own room. There would be time, eventually… right now, I was just happy to be spending time with her. I ran into Catherine while I was collecting food—she asked if Sara had told her the truth that nothing had happened. My response of 'Absolutely nothing happened between us last night' had her frowning. I figured she might sense my evasion, but she moved on anyway, asking why we were holed up inside in paradise if we were even having sex.

I shrugged and moved away from her. It wasn't that I wouldn't prefer there to be some sex involved, but it was just nice to have her to myself for a while. For the first time since I'd known her, I wasn't spending time with her around Jace's schedule—he was more or less a non-issue, though I knew he would come here eventually, and that there would be hell to pay if he found us together. My only hope was that he didn't discover where her room was until the next day—then we could at least escape on shore every day.

I'd been looking at brochures—this wasn't a big port, but there was an airport nearby, so it couldn't be tiny, and it seemed like a lot of locally-run tourist options were available. Some were as simple as guided nature walks in the nearby Curu National Wildlife Reserve, but others provided canoes to rent or scenic drives through the Reserve, where they was reported to be a lot of animals often seen. There were also small shops, beaches… but the rainforest was what I was really excited about. Sara too.

We had spent a good portion of the movie not watching it but discussing how we could pay for a private guided tour and take the time to go bug hunting… She said she didn't know very much, but she had brought a field guide—I told her I'd teach her, and the smile she gave me was positively luminescent. It lit up the room. And when it was over, Styrofoam containers set aside, and she had curled to my side, yawning once again, I simply ran my hands through her hair, hoping that she would have some energy back tomorrow—it had been twenty four hours since her last dose, but she was pregnant.

"…Can't sleep?" She asked me, clearly not as close to sleep as I had assumed. I shrugged, enjoying the weight of her head on my shoulder that kept the slowed the action.

"We slept all day…"

She yawned again. "We did… We could play a game."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What kind of game?"

She smiled and snuggled closer. "What else? Our usual… You tell me, I tell you."

I grinned, holding her closer, emboldened by how casual and comfortable she was with the intimacy. "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

"…Tell me about… the first time you got drunk."

I snorted. "The day I met Catherine Willows…" She laughed with me, smacking my chest lightly to admonish me. "Okay, okay… I was an undergrad. I was… a sophomore, I think. I didn't go to parties or anything, or, well… rarely. It wasn't my thing. But… Susan and I… We'd had a candle lit dinner, with wine, and… I didn't know my limits. It was… uneventful, except that I was teased about the things I said for the next year or so of my life…" She had tensed at Susan's name, telling me that she was, in fact, still jealous of the woman. Somehow, in the year we'd been apart, so much had changed and yet so little. I kissed her forehead in reassurance. "Yours?"

"I was… fourteen. I had an older foster sister who found where our foster parents kept the key to the liquor cabinet. We waited until they went to sleep and then snuck out a bottle that was already open, so they wouldn't notice… It was tequila. We… sipped it, but probably had several shots each. …We were… hysterical. Woke them up with our laughing… got caught…" She sighed softly. "We were both sent to different foster homes."

"…I'm sorry. Did you… like living with those people?"

She shrugged. "They weren't bad, so, you know… it was better than most. But I hadn't been there long, so I wasn't really… attached."

I nodded, and there was a brief pause. It was my turn to choose a question. "…What's the… most interesting place you've had sex?"

She laughed again, the fingers of the hand on my chest gently stroking me through her t-shirt. "Mmm… I assume an airplane bathroom beats the hood of a Camaro?"

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "…Was the Camaro outside?"

"No, it was inside. At night. In a locked garage." I grit my teeth, having guessed as much but now being certain that her partner in that one had been Jace.

"The airplane definitely wins. …I don't even… Why?" I asked, thinking that I had read that the altitude could enhance the entire experience, increase the euphoria… but the thought of attempting such a thing in a tiny airplane bathroom, with people outside…

She laughed again, a delicious throaty thing. "Spur of the moment… It was… Spring Break. We were all flying from Boston to Miami and… we wanted to be outrageous. I mean, isn't that the point of Spring Break? …Doing the things you'd never do otherwise?"

"Were you dating him?"

She shrugged. "We'd gone out a few times, but… I mean, he was a player. I knew it at the time. He was actually the T.A. in my Organic Chem. class. As far as the Chem. department was concerned, he was a BMoC."

I frowned. "A what?"

She laughed again. "Big Man on Campus. …It was not as good as I would have expected it to be—him or the experience in general."

I shifted beneath her, "Still… the logistics of such a thing. I mean, if you have a private jet and a bed, I get it, but… in a space that small?"

She shrugged. "The shower in this bathroom is smaller than an airplane bathroom… and I bet you could still do it in there…" My head turned, a little, to look at her. …Did she not realize what saying things like that did to me? "You?"

"Hmm?"

"Your most interesting place."

I shrugged again. "Either the store room I told you about or…"

She looked up at me. "…Or what?"

I made a face. "Probably the store room."

Her eyes lit up—she hadn't fallen for it. "No… it probably isn't, or you would have just said that. I told you my top two…"

"You have others that compare?"

She raised an eyebrow at me and I sighed again. "My biology teacher's desk."

"What?!" I jumped. She was apparently not so good with volume control.

I swallowed, pulling her tighter to me. "…I've never told anyone this."

"No, you could've been expelled for that! What if your teacher had walked in?" I hesitated, and then she gasped—she had figured it out. "…All these… escapades… take place at school. …In biology-related instances. …Gil, was Susan your biology professor?"

I hadn't been lying—assuming she had never told anyone, Susan and I had been the only ones to ever know… us, and now Sara. I nodded slowly and she frowned, tilting her head, watching me. I didn't know exactly what kind of response to expect… I just knew that I wanted to be completely honest with her. She had told me things that she had probably only shared with Jace and I. …Some, she may not even have shared with him. Did he know she'd been Little Red Riding Hood? Did he know she'd wanted to be a Chocolate Maker because she thought she'd get to eat everything she made?

"She hurt you." She says, and though I hadn't known what to expect, this was not it. I frowned, not wanted to look at her, but her hands gently turned my face towards her. "…You were nineteen, a virgin, in love with her subject, always staying for help or extra information… She was older than you, experienced, in control… beautiful. …Married?"

I shook my head. "No. …Well, no, she… she was married the first time it happened, in the store room. I… put a stop to it. …Said that… that God wouldn't forgive either of us if we continued… that I would never forgive myself. I… kept thinking what my mother would say to me. …Her marriage had been over long before I came along, though. Her husband asked for a divorce, they got a divorce, and… by the next semester, we were…having an affair."

"…Did you keep taking her classes?"

I blushed. "Yes, but… not because I needed the help with my grades. I was never given preferential treatment."

"…Then why?"

"So if we were seen in public, we had an excuse for being together—I was in her office asking for help, we were getting dinner because a study session had gone late, she was at my apartment because I'd left a book in her classroom…"

"…Why her office, if you… saw each other in privacy?"

I grit my teeth, but forced myself to be honest. "…She liked… that I was a student. She liked… control. I think, once I wasn't a student anymore, my appeal went with it. …So she would… have me come in to ask for help… she would treat me like a failing student who needed to 'earn' a grade…"

"Oh god!" She cringed, alarmed, tucking her face against my chest. "That's… Gil, that's… oh god. She… she used you! She… Oh my god! You should have told someone! You were a victim!"

I shook my head. "It's been a very long time, Sara. She was about twenty years older than me, which would make her in her sixties… I doubt there's any threat that she'll do it to anyone else."

She huffed indignantly, like that wasn't the point, and I slid my hands over her back, gently soothing her, because I really didn't want to drag all of this up in order to have her try to convince me how foolish and naïve I'd been—I knew that much already. I was… sharing. Being honest. …Trying to tell her things I'd never told anyone, because if there was one thing I'd learned in a lonely life, it was that keeping everything to yourself pushed people away more often than not.

The low moan that escaped her lips at my caresses surprised me—if it wasn't sexual, it was decidedly sensual in nature. And though I knew I should stop, especially because the effect she was having on me was going to be noticeable if I didn't, considering the way her leg and hip were slung over mine… I couldn't help it. I added a little pressure, pressing down her back in long glides. When she moaned again, I thought I'd be ready for it, but I wasn't. My breathing stuttered, heat shot down my spine, and I shifted uncomfortably, trying to guide an erection away from her notice.

I stopped then, but she didn't want me to stop. She scooted herself closer, trying to encourage me to start again… and in the process, pressed her leg right up against me. I closed my eyes, absolutely mortified, when I felt her stop moving in surprise and her gaze shift downwards. I tried desperately to think of something to say—to explain, to write it off, to make her laugh it off… I came up with nothing. She, however, seemed to be at no such loss for words.

"…Not such a little caterpillar after all."

I choked, half-laughing and half-incredulous but entirely embarrassed, thinking that the only solution was to pull myself out of bed, apologize profusely, and hope that tomorrow she would pretend this had never happened, just as she pretended that our almost-encounter never happened. She caught my movement, however, and stopped, me, her right arm, previously on my chest, stretched out to hold my left so that I was pressed to her.

"…Don't be embarrassed. It's just… harder for you to hide."

I groaned out loud at her words—was she trying to kill me? How much self control did the woman really think I had if she was implying that she was equally aroused but just better able to hide it. "Sara… I should go."

Her hand came down on my stomach, running gently above the elephant in the room. "…Stay."

I leaned back on the pillows in acquiescence, but I was anything but relaxed. My breath was coming in pants. I wanted more than anything to lift my hips… to tell her without words where I wanted that hand. I balled my fists and closed my eyes, thinking that I would be a saint if I made it through this night without once again pushing too far and being stopped abruptly.

"Sara—"

"…The other night, after… we stopped… Did you… finish yourself?"

I felt heat fill my face. "Sara—"

"It's my turn for a question, Gil. …You have to answer honestly."

Her gentle fingertips slid teasingly against the waistband of the shorts I was wearing, brushing against the waistband of my boxers. I gasped. "I… No. I wanted to but… without you… it wasn't the same. It just… made me sad."

"…Can I make you happy?" Her voice was deep and dark and husky and made the area she was slowly approaching throb.

Oh god. Those were definitely her fingers now brushing against my bare skin, beneath the waist band of my boxers, and she had definitely just said that. "Sara…" This time is was more like a moan than a warning. Her lips came over mine. "…Let me make you happy, Gil."

Her whole hand slipped down, grasping me firmly, sending a powerful jolt through my whole body. "Yesss, " I hissed, uncertain what I was agreeing to anymore, simply out of my mind that this was really happening. My eyes had rolled back in my head.

She stoked me one, a long, slow thing, that had me breathing like I'd run a marathon. "Oh, fuck, Sara." I said, through grit teeth, and she giggled. Actually giggled. If I had been less strung out, this might have caused me pause—she was enjoying the tease too much—but I was mindless at this point. I lifted against her hand, desperate, afraid to touch her or kiss her, thinking I would scare her away… make her stop touching me. I never, ever, wanted her to stop touching me.

She rose up, letting the blankets fall from her form and slipping her hand out, chuckling at the accompanying groan I released. She put one knee between my legs, unbuttoning and unzipping and in one smooth movement down my legs, freeing my erection from its strains, into the open air. I tried to watch her—tried to predict what was coming and prepare myself… but I couldn't keep my eyes open. She pulled her SFCL t-shirt up and off my head, leaving me naked and her fully clothed.

When she straddled me, I reached for her shirt, seeking some comfort… some sense of shared vulnerability, and though she allowed me to pull it from her frame, followed swiftly by her bra, she batted my hands away. "No… this is going to be for you."

"Sara—" I said again, once against trying to raise a protest, and once again stopped by her hand around me, in between her spread thighs, the strokes long and teasing and yet so. fucking. good. I moaned out loud again, trying to reach for her and finally being allowed—not to pleasure her, but to add to my own. I glided my hands up her abdomen, very gently caressed each breast, all the while my breathing coming in hot, fast puffs from my dry lips while she worked me.

She sped up, slowly, driving me crazy with want, batting my hands away each time I attempted to reach for the front of her pants, trying to reciprocate in some way. "I just want you to feel good, Gil. …Tell me I'm making you feel good."

"So good, honey. Sara… please…" I wasn't sure if I was begging for release or begging that she let me touch her—I believed she was doing neither when she suddenly disappeared, my sweaty-haired head falling back to the pillow in frustration and disbelief and what was going to be the worst case of blue balls in the history of the world—and when I felt the thin, wet line of her tongue moving over me, from base to head… "Oh Jesus!" I said, my whole body jumping in reaction again.

I expected her to giggle, but she didn't… she took me in her mouth and pushed me as quickly towards orgasm as I had ever been pushed. Honestly, fucking stars in front of my eyes I was so delirious with what she was doing. I tried to hold back, I warned her… tried to pull away. She tugged me closer, held me still, sucked harder, sliding deeper, one hand still pumping beneath her glorious mouth—and there was nothing I could do but arch up into her mouth as the most intense pleasure I had ever experienced rocked through my frame, down my spine, into my hips and between my thighs before ricocheting back through me. She stayed with me, slowing but not stopping as I emptied myself in her mouth in what felt like an unending climax, my entire body arched off the bed with the force of it.

When I was finished, thrown back against the pillows, gasping for air, my entire body tingling--Seriously, my fucking _teeth_ were tingling--she draped her body over mine, arms under my arms and hands pressed flat between my shoulder blades and the mattress, her head resting in the center of my chest, her breathing soft.

I could hardly open my eyes, much less move… but I tried. "Sara… Sara, let me…"

"No," she said, soft against my chest. "…This was perfect, just the way it was."

I let out a breath. …Really? I mean, I did not think I had ever, ever come like this… but if I could describe the perfect encounter without actually making love to her, it would not be like this. I would have been able to touch her, kiss her, taste her… listen to the way she sounds and discover what she likes and feel her walls tighten around my fingers as she arched her back in as much desperation as I had, urgently seeking and giving in.

"…I want to."

"I don't."

I let out another breath, my head spinning. I could not be expected to think clearly after that. "…What… are we doing?"

She shrugged, and for the first time it honestly seemed unconcerned. Her voice was sleepy again. "…I don't know. I'm just… tired of denying this. Of… being uncertain. So… I'm not thinking about it, anymore."

I wrapped my arms up around her, thinking that that might work for her, because she was confused… it simplified things. For me, though… it only complicated...everything. And as much as I knew I ought to say no… I also knew that I wouldn't.


	46. Chapter 46

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Longest day of my life. Sorry if it's a little short... my last one was super long, and considering the running I did today, I'm gonna call it good. And then, I'm gonna go to bed. :) At least we got some wedding planning done today! :D

Okay, let me know what you think. Goodnight!

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Chapter Forty Six:

I fell asleep, because she had exhausted me, though my dreams were full of swooping specters that left me unsettled, though I could never quite define what they were. I woke up feeling not as well rested as I ought to, and though I smiled at her when her eyes flickered open seconds after mine and leaned over to kiss her, morning breath and all, I felt… uncertain. Like the events of the previous night did not necessarily mean anything.

She was still bare from the waist up, and I was completely naked. …And I felt uncomfortable. When you finally spend an amazing night with someone you've dreamed about for so long… the nakedness should seem natural. Glorious, even. It should make you giddy, not awkward and shy. I was four shades of red and she kept the blankets tucked under her arms.

I turned away, allowing her to slide out of bed with some modesty, retrieve her shirt and move to the bathroom. I was out and throwing on clothes rapidly as well, feeling exposed in the cool air of early morning. I paced, I sat on the bed, and finally (it had probably not been a full five minutes…) moved over to the door, feeling like I was being a coward. "Sara?"

"…Just a minute!"

"I, uh… I'm gonna go to my room, shower and change… catch up with Catherine. Did you want to meet for breakfast or…"

"Um… maybe. Sit with Catherine. If I'm not up there in twenty minutes, go ahead and start without me."

So I sighed, shrugged, said goodbye… and left. I showered and changed, and then headed straight to Catherine's room, banging on the door. When it swung open, revealing a well-muscled man in his tighty-whiteys, I positively cringed. It was a testament to how very desperate I was that I did not turn and walk away at that moment. "…I'm looking for Catherine."

He left the door open and moved over to the bed, gently shaking her. She moaned softly, "Oh, man, I am not ready for round three quite yet…"

Did I mention that I was desperate? "Catherine." I said sternly and a little loudly. She shot up, her blankets tucked under her arms as well, but making it very clear that she was naked beneath it. Well, it was nice to know that some women ended up naked after intimacy. Her hair was wild, falling over her face, her eyes slightly out of focus. I sighed. "I… need some advice. …Sooner rather than later."

She looked at me for a long moment, through the hair that had fallen across her eyes, and then nodded. "…I'll be down to breakfast in twenty."

"Sara said she might be there in twenty… and that was ten minutes ago."

She huffed, running fingers through her hair and pulling it back into a ponytail she'd had around her wrist, and then slid out of bed, rotating slowly on the spot, until the sheet she had wrapped around her was completely free of the bed. She sighed again, moving to one of the two chairs in the room. "Well, come in and close the door."

I frowned at her bed fellow, but he seemed untroubled. He picked up clothes from the floor and moved into the bathroom. A moment later, I heard the water turn on. I closed the door, belatedly, and moved to sit in the chair opposite her. "I… have no idea what to do next."

She nodded. "Figures. Tell me what happened…"

"Okay, so… we spent the whole day together, just… sleeping, watching TV, sharing meals… and then, last night, we weren't really tired because we'd slept all day, so we were… talking. And one thing led to another and…"

"You slept with her."

"I…" I frowned. "Kind of?"

She sighed and cocked her head. "There's no kind of, Gil. Penetration or no?"

"…No."

"So you… what? Oral?"

"…Yes."

Her eyebrows rose. "Nice. So, what… were you not so good? Need some pointers? 'Cause, honestly, Gil, you seem like you're doing just fine."

My whole face burned. This was mortifying. "I… No, I don't need any pointers. I… She wouldn't let me… reciprocate."

She frowned. "So wait… She blew you, and then… told you that was it? Go to sleep? No thank you?"

"_Yes._" I stressed, feeling completely confused.

"…Was she trying to be nice?"

"No. …I don't think so. She didn't say 'You don't have to,' she said… Well, no, I said 'I want to' and she said 'I don't'."

"…Is she crazy religious?"

"No! She's… all but an atheist."

"…Did she let you do anything?"

I put my hands to my face—there was no way I could describe this in detail and look at her, but it had to be done. Things weren't right, and I had to understand them to fix them. "She… let me touch her… above the waist. But not to… do anything for her. It was only… to enhance… my experience. Any time I tried to pull off her pants or… touch her… She'd push me away."

When she was silent, I peeked. She looked deep in thought, and then she sighed.

"Gil, I… I think she's insecure."

"What?!" I said, incredulous. If anyone ought to be insecure, it was me. She'd been turning me down since I met her…

"And… confused. She feels guilty."

I braced my forehead against my hands. "…Okay. I'm lost. Just… spell it out for me."

"…She gave in, allowing herself to be with you, because she wants it so bad that she can't deny it anymore. But she pushed you away for two reasons. First, you touching her in that way is awfully close to another man's baby… not just like touching her stomach, but like banging on baby's door, you know? …She probably feels like that's a bigger betrayal than just sleeping with you if she weren't pregnant. …Second, she still feels guilty—she might not be able to fight it anymore, and she might even be trying not to think about it, but you can bet she feels terrible whenever he crosses her mind… If she doesn't gain any pleasure from the experience, she can feel less guilty."

"That's crazy."

She laughed. "Emotions don't make people act rationally, Gil. …She probably doesn't feel… confident enough about you, to take the final leap and break things off with Jace—thus ending the guilt and the sense of betrayal. She's insecure about going too far in betraying Jace, because she is sure about him, even if she isn't sure that she wants to be with him. …So the question is, what are you going to do to reassure her of your honorable intentions?"

My head was spinning with the explanation, but… Catherine, thankfully, had simplified it for me, to some extent. I needed to reassure her. …I needed to tell her that I'd been at the wedding. I had let it slide, thinking I would find the right moment… thinking I would wait, and that as we got closer, she'd be more willing to talk about San Francisco. …I couldn't wait anymore. I would tell her today.

…I would not tell her today. She showed up at breakfast with Catherine and Mr. Tighty-Whiteys, whose name I had learned was Jesse—he had come on the cruise because it was a dream of his to surf with Giant Sea Turtles. …He was 'majorly bummed' when he arrived in Puerto Ayora and found no such activity readily available—and we were joined shortly thereafter by Jace, suggesting we explore the town together again.

Sara laughed in a way that was too loud and said, "Oh… Yeah, I guess. I mean, why not? …We're all friends here."

Catherine raised an eyebrow at her and I narrowed my eyes in frustration, but Jace didn't react. …Which told me that he was either dumb as a rock, or he knew something had happened—he was not surprised. I frowned, wondering what this was going to mean… I spent the day making sure that she was never alone with him, whether it meant sticking close to them, dragging Catherine over to look at something that Sara had been when Jace tried to approach her, and even trying to spark conversations about surfing with Sara and Jesse. This was the most effective—it got us through the second half of the day and on to dinner, during which Jace didn't join us.

Jesse, Catherine, Sara, and I decided to go to an on-board bowling alley for the evening, and when I walked her back to her room, I was reluctant to leave her alone, thinking that I could not honestly hope that Jace would not have figured out her room by now… and I didn't want him questioning her about what had happened between us before it was more… concrete. Before I could easily define it in my mind…and know that her definition matched mine. Then she could tell him.

She paused in front of the door, sighing softly, and though she hesitated long enough for me to inhale sharply, bracing myself for the rejection, it didn't come. "…Do you want to stay, again?"

I half-smiled. The awkwardness was there, but so was the thrumming, half-blind desire for her. "…We don't have to… do what we did last night. I just… liked sleeping with you."

The smile she gave me was radiant, the awkwardness slinking away, and we stepped inside. …I didn't expect anything to happen, after that exchange, but the way she pulled me to her and captured my lips once inside… apparently I was wrong.

It was… more or less the same. I wanted to tell her about the wedding, but I also didn't want it to be moments after we'd fallen into bed. I wanted her to believe me… and so I couldn't have any clear ulterior motive, like sex, immediately available. When she pushed my hands away again, I rolled her until she was on her back, settling my body between her thighs and kissing her hard. I rocked up again her, she moaned, and did not protest—did not push me away or complain.

I mean, sure, we were both still wearing pants and she probably wouldn't come this way… but I was bringing her pleasure, at least, and maybe, if I got her worked up enough, she'd allow me to touch her through her pants. …I could probably finish her that way, if she were sufficiently teased…

And tomorrow, she had promised we'd go bug hunting. …Tomorrow, I would find a way to tell her, or die trying.


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: First of all, all my insect/rainforest related references come from the list of sites I will place at the bottom. I am more than aware that wikipedia is not as reliable as I could hope for, and I am giving fair warning that I did only enough research to get by... so while I believe that each of these animals frequent Costa Rican Rainforests, I cannot tell you if it's the right time or year or right altitude for them to be seen, nor can I testify as to whether they would be so readily seen on a trail. :) Grissom can come yell at me, if he wants to. ...No, really, he can come here. Please. :)

Anywho, this chapter, I believe, had been much awaited. And the next one, half-written at this point, is probably even more so. :) (How's that for being a tease, edge? :P) Jelly, why would I kill him? I love him. Aaand, csiKathy, your predictions are oh-so-accurate. I hope I made bug-hunting interesting. I tried. Gsrmania and CSIfan3408, Don't you think true love is a rational enough reason to leave Jace, without him being a conniving, cheating, evil bastard? No? I mean, does he _have_ to be so bad? ...?

:) I'm gonna go work on conferences, but I'll probably finish the chapter before I finish those, because I have my priorities. Hehe. It should be up soon...

* * *

Chapter Forty Seven:

I wasn't thinking about it.

Because when I thought about it, I hated myself. There was the wide, gaping, yawning hole in my chest that positively throbbed when I did. The previous day had been excruciating, with Jace constantly there…and I would have to tell him. There was no way I couldn't… I just wanted to know what I was doing, when I did. So I had more to say than, "I cheated on you, but I don't want to stop seeing him and I don't know if I want to leave you. Please let me continue to leave you in limbo while I screw around with him and see if that makes me any happier than I was when I wasn't letting myself have him."

God, I was a horrible person.

…But if I didn't have to see him, I could at least take a little more time, before that confrontation. I could at least figure out what I wanted, so I knew what to say. Gil called Catherine that morning, inviting her and Jesse to meet us for breakfast somewhere else, away from the main dining room, and then moved into the bathroom, where I was brushing my teeth, pressing himself against my back with a low growl. I shivered, my eyes falling closed, a wave of guilt rushing over me again… I had felt like, if I only did things for him, then what I was doing wasn't as bad. I hadn't let him take my pants off, and yet somehow, the night before… I felt my stomach muscles tighten at the mere memory of the way he'd touched me.

"They said they'll meet us at the one on the top deck… You know, that little place with the made-to-order omelet bar?"

"Sounds good," I said, a little breathlessly. He was still pressed up behind me, bent over me, his mouth moving over my neck and shoulder.

He grinned. "I'm gonna go shower and change… I'll see you in twenty minutes?"

I hesitated, briefly, thinking that I had told him that sex in the tiny shower in here could be done… but I still wasn't willing to let that happen, no matter how this man affected me when he touched me. And good lord, how he affected me. "Okay… Make sure to put on sunscreen, we'll be out all day…"

He raked his teeth over my skin, smirking at my gasp, and then kissed my temple. "I will."

And then he was gone. I showered, dressed, sunscreened, and then wound my hair up on my head before hurrying to meet them. The elevator I found myself in was glass—I was going up, and the one beside it was going down… with Jace inside. I turned my back to him, thinking I had dodged a major bullet, but that I likely wouldn't get the chance again. …At least he hadn't seen me.

Hopefully.

Breakfast was good, though rushed… I don't know if Gil knew I wanted to hurry to avoid Jace, or if he thought I was just anxious to get on to our bug hunt. Either way, he was happy to go along with me, something I was grateful for. We waved to Catherine and Jesse and hurried onto shore, not wasting any time in finding a guide who would take the two of us on a private walk through the Reserve, though it was a drive out there. The man's English was limited, but Gil and I, apparently, both knew enough Spanish that between the three of us, we could come to an understanding.

Gil paid, though I offered. I think he, too, saw it as Jace's money and didn't want the man anywhere in our little adventure. It was a twenty minute drive on a shuttle bus that was open on top, with half the seatbelts broken. I was glad I'd reminded Gil to wear sunscreen and grinned cheekily at the straw hat he was sporting, which he'd purchased in Puerto Ayora, despite Catherine and I teasing him about it. I turned slightly in my chair and leaned back against him, my back to his chest, his arm draped over my chest. It was humid, but early enough in the morning that the heat was not strong yet—cuddling was still a bearable option.

I tried to talk to him—ask which bugs he most wanted to see—but it was just too loud. The bus creaked and rumbled as it went over dips and holes in the road, rocks were kicked up and bounced and clattered against the sides and underside of the bus, and the 'highway noise' sound of the tires on the ground wasn't blocked at all by windows or… a ceiling. We were shouting in each others' ears and still misunderstanding each other, so I simply closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him mixed with the approaching scent of rainforest in the tropical air. It was nice; an earthy, wet smell, mixed with something warm and masculine and… enlivening.

When we stopped, Juan, our guide, called back to us and we clambered out. He called Gil 'Gree-ssom' and I was simply 'Senora.' …Which was fine. I wasn't sure if he'd misheard me telling him my name, or whether he was just being respectful. I had a bug book, but shortly after tucked it into the small backpack I'd brought with, because there was nothing it could tell me that Gil could not.

"Do you hear that?" He said, indicating a sound that was reminiscent of a cricket, but so much louder. I nodded and he grinned, "Male Wood Crickets. They rub the overlapping edges of their wing cases together."

"…I thought crickets chirped by rubbing their legs together? Are these ones different?"

He grinned. "No—it's a common misconception. This sound is a mating call—He holds his wings up and open and rubs them together, so the sound travels father—it attracts females and repels males. When a male is near, he has a rather aggressive chirp, and …When a female cricket is near, it turns soft and quiet… a wooing song."

I laughed. "So men are all the same, is what you're telling me?"

He grinned. "Pretty much. …When they're done mating, there's a considerably shorter chirp or song… like a cricket sigh of contentment."

I tilted my head. "…I had heard that only humans and dolphins had sex for pleasure…"

He slid an arm around my waist. "Why, then, do our primate fellows masturbate? …I'm inclined to think that, orgasm or no, every living thing finds sex pleasurable in one way or another…"

I blushed and Juan looked back at us from about ten feet ahead, no doubt thinking that we were the slowest tourists in the world. We weren't exactly sure if he'd grasped the concept that we were mainly looking for bugs—he kept telling us about this spectacular waterfall near the end of the trail. Still, even if it wasn't a spectacular flock of Blue Morpho Butterflies, I was excited to see it.

"Oh, Sara, look!" He said, pulling me to one side of the trail to see what looked like a walking leaf, which he declared a 'Leaf Insect.' …I could have told him that. He went on to tell me about Hummingbird Flower Mites that were so small they moved from flower to flower in the nostrils of hummingbirds, even the Bee Hummingbird, the smallest of the species, which was a maximum of two inches in length, mostly tail and beak.

"The males are extremely territorial—they fly at each other, almost like fighter pilots… I've heard it's spectacular to see. They fight over areas that had lots of bright, sweet-smelling flowers, because it attracts females. It's like… prostitution. The oldest profession in the world: Food for sex."

I snorted. "Sounds more like modern dating. Bring me flowers, buy me a nice dinner…"

"Sara Sidle," he teased, using my married name for the second time. How did he know that that send secret thrills through me? "…Are you telling me that you're easy?"

I laughed again, linking my hand through his, despite the day getting warmer. "I'm… telling you that I am one of many living things that finds sex pleasurable… in one way or another."

He laughed too, and Juan turned to look at us again. …I sincerely hoped he only understood as much English as I'd thought…

Gil pointed out a beautiful Zebra Longwing butterfly, an exquisite specimen with black and white stripes, and a Banded Peacock that was brown with white and red markings. He said it could be found in the southern US too, but somehow, here, in the middle of all this greenery and life, it seemed more vibrant… more rare and unique and alive. …I felt more alive, here.

He showed me a moth pretending to be a butterfly—having evolved to look like another species for it's own protection—'Batesian Mimicry.' He went on to tell me about other kinds of mimicry and how fabulous and amazing it was that creatures had evolved in such fascinating ways, to be less appealing targets or more effective hunters or more attractive mates… and his enthusiasm was catching.

By the time we reached the waterfall, Juan suggesting we take a break, even though we were almost back to the bus, because it was nearing noon and this area was not covered by the thick canopy we'd been blanketed by the rest of the walk—it was hot. We sat on rocks, pulling out bottles of water, and Juan told us in broken English, with a few Spanish words to help, that he'd never guided a tour in which the tourist knew more than he did. Gil laughed and apologized, and Juan shook his head, saying that he now knew more things to teach on his tours… which made me blush. He had to have understood more than I thought he would.

He moved off then, giving us some time to ourselves, and I sighed in contentment. "…It's so beautiful, here."

"It is," he said, and I glanced at him out of the side of my eyes. He was looking at me. I blushed brighter, turning away, but he gently turned me back. "Sara… I need to talk to you."

I frowned. I wasn't thinking about this. That was the only way I could deal with it. He took my hand, even as I was shaking my hand, and his voice was gentle. "Honey… I know you've told me that you don't want to. But… this is important. Honey… Why did you marry Jace?"

I closed my eyes in pain. "I can't do this, Gil." I tried to stand but he kept my hand, pulling me gently back down to sit with him. I huffed, leveling him with my best angry face. He smiled softly.

"…Normally that look would scare me, Sara. …But nothing is scarier than the thought of losing you a second time. Honey… You were looking around. You hesitated, before 'I do.' …Were you looking for me?"

My mouth was dry and suddenly I felt dizzy. Was I dehydrated? I picked up the bottle of water and drank deeply, my hands shaking. I could do this. I could face this. …How the fuck did he know what I'd done? "I… Gil, how do you… It… it doesn't matter. You weren't there, so whether I looked or not—"

He gripped my hand tightly and I stopped speaking, looking to him in a question. His eyes were shining and he looked desperate… like a man on fire… like this moment was the most important of his life. I breathed in, feeling the important in his expression make the air around us heavy. "Sara… Sara, honey, I was there."

I shook my head. "No, Gil, I… I looked for you. I—"

"I know." He said, softly, and then he had slid off the rock, kneeling in front of me. "I know you looked for me, and I know you hesitated, because I watched you do it. …Sara, a… a bridesmaid… came out, right before the wedding started. She told me that you'd told Jace about our kiss on the Berkeley campus… she said you wanted me to move out of sight, so as not to create a scene. …I moved, because I didn't want to ruin your wedding, honey, but… I was there until it was over."

I couldn't breathe. My world was falling apart. He… had been there. I had looked for him… would honestly have run to him… and I had thought he'd betrayed me. He hadn't been there, but he had been and… my best friend. Rachel, the only one who knew… the only one I trusted with the twisted uncertainty that had been in my heart that week… I felt tears spark my eyes, but I could not have told you if they were sad or angry. I grit my teeth, wiping furiously, unwilling to cry in front of Gil yet again. …Everything could be so much simpler… so different… if I had only known.

"Sara?" His soft voice drew me back to the present, grounding me, making me draw in breath and my head stop spinning and my grip on the concrete reality around me restored. "…If you had seen me, would you have married him?"

* * *

wikipedia(dot)org/wiki/Cricket_(insect)

costarica-homeschool(dot)

costarica-homeschool(dot)

rainforests(dot)mongabay(dot)

en(dot)wikipedia(dot)org/wiki/Wildlife_of_Costa_Rica


	48. Chapter 48

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: ...Yeah, you've all been waiting for this.

Lol, I didn't mean to leave the previous night vague--I think Sara, in chapter 47, says something about how he'd touched her, but she hadn't let him take off her pants, implying that they'd fooled around and he'd made her feel good, if not come (could be either?), over the pants. ...Hope this clears that up, toothchick. :)

Also, LittleSpooky, thanks for the advice on the links. I had thought I'd done it, and then realized I never changed them... so I had to go back and fix them, but I appreciated the help.

* * *

Chapter Forty Eight:

I couldn't stop them this time—the tears came and came and wouldn't stop and I was biting my bottom lip trying to stop them, hands clutching the sweat-dampened fabric at his shoulders. "No!" I sobbed, the honesty burning me, bringing all that guilt up to the surface. "…No. I… I wanted you. I… No, I would have… I wanted you." The sob slipped from my lips on the end of the last word and I felt so weak… in mind, in body, in spirit. I let him draw me into his arms, rock me gently, hold me close to his chest.

Juan returned, but waited for me to calm before approaching us and suggesting we get going… when we got back to Tambor Bay, he had missed his next tour. Gil insisted that he pay him the money he'd missed out on, waiting for us to have our moment, and tipped the man as well. He had been so kind. He shook hands with Gil, thanking him profusely, saying something to the effect of how much a blessing he was, 'the American bug-lover in the silly hat.'

I laughed, the first feeling other than complete disbelief mixed with a drained sense of uncertainty that I had felt since the waterfall. Juan hugged me, told me he hoped I was feeling better, calling me 'Senora Gree-som.' …God, I liked the sound of that.

Gil guided me gently back on board, slowly because I felt like the life had simply been sapped from my very bones, and we moved down to my room without conversation. As soon as the door closed, I had hugged him, just trying to gain strength from him… from his broad-shouldered, soft-smiled, ocean-eyed goodness and warmth. He pulled back from me, taking my eyes with his and the breath from my throat to boot. "…I love you, Sara."

His voice was gentle, coaxing, soft… it coated me in a feeling of certainty, lifted me up, filled me up. The life slipped back through me, seeping into my extremities, making me feel again—and oh, the things I felt. I felt the tears on my face, but I did not wipe them away again… and they did not hinder my ability to speak. "…I love you too. I know I shouldn't, but I do."

He kissed me, and though it caused a similar reaction between my thighs as the other times he'd kissed me… this also sent a shudder of rightness through me. It was so very much like the first kiss we'd ever shared… it was sweet and slow and left me week in the knees and before I could think of anything else, I had wrapped my arms around him, wrapping my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and we were moving back towards the bed.

He bent me down gently, laying me on the bed, slipping me out of the shirt that I was sweating in. I thought briefly that we ought to shower before we did this, hoping that my deodorant was still working, but he had no such thoughts. He laid kisses from my jaw to bellybutton and back, unsnapping my bra and taking each of my breasts in his mouth like he was a starving man and I was the only thing that could sustain him.

I groaned at the waves he was sending through me, reaching for his shirt and feeling him gently bat my hands away. "Oh…" I moaned, my only way to voice my protest that he was not letting me touch him. God, I wanted to touch him. My shorts slid down my legs and off my feet, followed by shoes and socks that I had not had time to remove, and then his broad hands, palms soft and fingers calloused, slid back up them. I felt my body arching up to him unconsciously, my fingers gripping into the bed sheets, anticipation the very air I was breathing.

He kissed and nipped up my thighs, slowly pushing my legs further apart, a gentle hand falling on my stomach and pushing me down gently, back to the bed. He blew hot air over me and I shivered… cold and I gasped. His mouth was so close to me, less than an inch, each breath a taunt. I curled my toes, waiting, feeling myself getting wetter and wetter despite the fact that he had done nothing so far.

I did not expect the deep, guttural sound that broke its way from my throat when his tongue flicked over me, causing me to buck up against him, needing him to touch me the way I needed water. I was panting, shaking, eyelids fluttering… and then he moved closer, catching my clitoris between his lips and sucking hard, sending me arching off the bed again, this time a high-pitched keening sound sliding from my mouth. I felt him smile against me and his fingers slip inside.

I tightened around them instantly, my body desperate for him, my back permanently stretched into an arc, unable to get enough of him. He started moving, his mouth not touching me now, his breath becoming the ever-present tease again as I moved against his hand, thinking that the only thing that could be better would be to have him inside me. God, he'd been big when I'd touched him. …I wasn't even sure I could handle him, but I wanted to find out. I wanted to see him lose control the way he had last night, and the night before, and this time know that it wasn't simply because he was being stimulated, but because he was with me. Sex was more personal… face to face… the connection of two souls. I wanted to feel that close to him.

My thoughts had driven me into a frenzy—I was rocking against his fingers faster than he could move them, desperate, begging him through gasps to come take me, make me his, fill me up, love me… and when his mouth descended again, I flew over the edge in a blinding flash, my head slamming back into the pillows, my screams probably comical in their extremity, but I couldn't help it.

Despite the earth-shattering nature of the orgasm, I wanted more. I did not feel satisfied. I collapsed on the bed, panting and gasping, and when he kissed his way back up to me, I was already pulling at his clothes. "I have to feel you…"

He helped me then, kicking off his shoes while I unbuttoning and unzipped his shorts. He pulled them down and bicycled his legs to remove them while I dragged his shirt over his head, and for the first time, we were naked, together, pressed together. That knowledge had me gasping for breath again, the contact of his skin both cool against my heated flesh and scorching, because I could not help but react. He was smooth and yet firm, soft but strong. The way he felt against me, between my legs, had me writhing beneath him before he even started moving.

I reached down to touch him, to stroke him, but he gently pulled my hand away, kissing my lips. "…You want me to last, don't you?" He chided, and the sultry nature of his voice had my eyes rolling back in my head.

"Yess," I hissed. Yes, I wanted him to last. Forever, if he could. And suddenly, that was an important point. I forced my eyes open, catching him, trying to impress upon him with simply the force of my gaze the significance of my words. "…I love you."

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, looking like his whole world had come together in that moment, despite me having said it once before. "I love you too. Sara… Can I have you, please? All of you?"

I know he's asking more than to slip inside me, and this slow-down, this conversation… gives me a second to think. I hesitate, only a moment. "…The baby." I don't ask it as a question, but I know that he knows. He kisses me and then dips down, laying a gentle kiss over my abdomen, his amazing hands caressing the tiny bump there that hints at what's inside.

"…I will love him or her as much as I love you. I would give my life to protect this baby… as if it were my own."

Tears sprung into my eyes, again, and I was no longer confused. Not even a little bit. "…You already have all of me."

He pushed inside me, the moment imprinted in my mind forever, the gasps that fell from each of our lips mingling together as we bent closer, pressing our lips together, taking a long moment just to relish the finality of it all. It did feel final… Like coming home. There was a definitiveness that I had never felt before, and I realized with some surprise that I now knew how people could believe that sex could be holy. This moment was holy. This man and I, together… were holy. I had never known anything more certainly in my life.

He moved within, slowly, and yet each stroke was powerful and sent shock waves through me. We met to kiss between each, until it became too heated, our breaths coming faster than his movements, my head rolling on the pillow beneath me, my fingers flexing over his shoulder blades, digging in deeper and then releasing when he slid back. I could feel every muscle in his body tense and relax, smell the scents of both our sweat and arousal, mixing together and filling up the room. I could taste the salt from his skin and the sound of his breathing and soft moans and grunts had me going higher and higher, despite his steady rhythm. His chest moved against mine, my feet slid up his calves, knees hooking around his thighs, his hands moving from the bed to grip around, under my shoulders, putting us even closer.

But the thing I will remember until the day I die was the way his blue eyes stayed on mine the whole time, whether I had to close mine at the intensity of the pleasure or not—every time I looked at him, he was watching me with an intensity that defied anything I had ever known. They positively glowed when my legs tightened and I arched up against him, release gripping me and throwing me into bliss. He followed me, eyes wide open, taking in my every expression, my every sound, and the reality of this—the knowledge that he was watching me come and coming with me, the act of watching me enough to take him over without increased speed or stimulation—it sent me on another, my eyes slamming shut, my entire body swept up in it.

He tried to pull from me, long before I was ready, and I tightened my sore legs again, keeping him deep inside me, despite his rapidly softening erection. "No… I don't ever want to stop feeling you. …I want to be close to you, just like this, forever…"

And he sighed happily, laying himself down onto me and tucking his head into the crook of my neck, his chest still rising and falling heavily. "Forever," he whispered in agreement, and I let my eyes close.


	49. Chapter 49

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: ...Everyone thinks that we're winding down, huh? This is the end, wrap it up, throw in some smut and some fluff, a little drama, and skip into our happily ever after...?

So sorry to disappoint. Those of you who wanted a reason to hate Jace... Careful what you wish for?

* * *

Chapter Forty Nine:

The next morning, waking up with my arms around her naked form, there was no awkwardness. It was perfect. I ran my hands over her body, delighting that I was allowed to, kissing her collar bone, nibbling on her ear lobe, causing her to moan softly and roll against me. "…God, I'm sore. Are you this sore?"

I chuckled. "Probably more so… and I was hoping you'd make it worse."

Her eyes opened a crack, squinting at me in the very early morning light—we'd fallen asleep in the early evening after all. "Hmm?"

"…You said something about the shower…"

A grin slipped across her still sleepy features. "…Are you insatiable, Dr. Grissom?" She teased me, but I frowned.

"…Please, call me Gil. …You called me 'Dr. Grissom' when were weren't…" Her fingers came up to my lips, stopping me.

"I won't… I think I'd cry if I had to hear you call me 'Mrs. Wendt' again…"

"Speaking of…" I said, frowning and drawing her left hand up between us, spying the large rock there. "…Are you going to… stop wearing this?"

She grinned, reaching up and tugging it off and laying it on the nightstand. "Better?"

I kissed her finger. "Much… I can get you one to replace it. I… Well, I… I have one." She raised an eyebrow and I stopped and took a breath in an attempt to stop my stuttering. "I have… my grandmother's. But if you'd rather pick one out…"

She grinned. "…Are you asking me to marry you, Gil?"

I blushed a little, realizing belatedly that I had jumped the gun. A little sheepishly I smiled, "Well… I think I proposed to you over a year ago… You just have yet to give me an answer."

God, she was beautiful when she smiled, but especially this way… sleepy, naked, comfortable, content, naked, warm, cuddy, naked… Did I mention that she's naked? She smiled at me in just that way and gave me a lazy, contented blink. "Yes."

So simple, so quick… so perfect. I pulled her close to me, kissing her, drawing her body against mine… and before I knew it, we were stumbling out of bed, half-kissing and half-chasing each other into the shower where she pushed me up against the wall. "…I'm sorry for…"

"I know." I said, not needing to hear it. She'd been in a terrible position, and the tough stuff was far from over… but we were on the other side now. I turned the water on, cringing briefly until it turned warm, enjoying her soft shriek as she tried to leap out of the cold spray and found the shower in no way big enough to not be in the spray, even if she'd been in here alone.

I caught her arms and pulled her against me when it had warmed up, kissing her softly and then turning her until she was against the wall. In a shower this small, there was really only one way for this to be done. I slid my hands to her thighs and felt her tense, bracing herself for the lift. I smirked. "…Don't you trust me?"

She relaxed. "Absolutely."

I gently lifted her up, sliding her up the wall and bracing her there, shifting my hips just slightly until I was slipping inside her. She was wet, though not as much as she had been the night before. She gripped my shoulders tightly, "…Go slow."

I frowned. "I'm sorry… Does it hurt?" I wanted to pull back, but she gripped me tighter.

"No… but if you go hard or fast right away… it will. I'm not used to… You're very…"

"What?" I said, frowning, and she gave me a sly smile.

"Big, Gil. You've got a big _caterpillar_…"

I cracked a grin and she giggled like a little girl, clutching me to her and letting the sound change into a husky giggle that could only come from a woman. God, I loved her. So I told her so. And then I proceeded to love her under the hot water until she was screaming out my name.

Once again, I hadn't brought clothes. I put on the sweaty clothes from yesterday, kissing her deeply, telling her I'd meet her for breakfast in an hour, because we had woken up rather early and, despite our time-consuming activities, we'd still beat Catherine by almost an hour if we showed up any sooner. When I went to my room, I was whistling. Yeah, there was still Jace to deal with and no doubt a certain amount of turmoil over the baby, but I wasn't worried. We'd get through it, together.

* * *

The knock that came on my door shortly after Gil left had me laughing. Though only clad in a towel, I swung the door open smiling, "…Back for more already?" My jaw dropped when I saw my husband standing there, looking distraught.

I expected screaming, and honestly felt fear for it—I had been witness to my share of violent fights, and they were probably the reason I had such a temper myself… I had grown up thinking it was normal to be unable to control your anger. But it didn't come. He looked… miserable. And when he spoke, he sounded like a man broken.

"…Can I come in, Sara?"

I tightened the towel around myself, feeling self-conscious despite having been naked in front of Jace more times than I could count… and I was good at math. I stepped back, allowing him to enter, thinking I had been foolish to think I could put this off until I was ready to face him, but also thinking that I sincerely wished Gil were still here with me, for this.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, turning back to face me and catching sight of the ring on the nightstand in the process. "…You're not wearing your wedding ring."

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling exposed. I decided on honestly—he deserved as much. "…No."

He swallowed. "So it's… more than just sex." His voice trembled, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Despite how mad I'd been for his deception, I couldn't feel that anger now—I had hurt him, badly.

I looked down at my bare feet. "…Yes, it's more than sex. It… wasn't even sex… until—"

"I don't want to know." He said, a little harshly, but I could forgive him that. He moved to sit on the bed and then stopped, taking in the tousled covers and looking repulsed. He moved instead to one of the two chairs in the room and gestured that I should do the same. I glanced around, thinking to find a complimentary robe or something, and came up empty. I sighed and moved to sit down, keeping my arms across my chest.

He watched me for a long moment. "…I thought that this was what you wanted. I mean, Sara, I… I tried very hard to make you happy. You wanted a baby, but not before we were financially secure…I gave us security. You didn't like the idea of taking too much of the pie, so we gave away everything we didn't need, with the exception of starting a college fund for the baby. …We got the house you wanted, to have the family you wanted. …I tried to give you everything you could dream of."

I felt tears at the back of my eyes. "…You didn't do anything wrong, Jace. It… I mean, I was… really mad about the deception. I still would be… but I've hurt you too, now, and it's hard to be mad when I feel so guilty… Jace, I… This didn't happen because of anything you failed to do or provide me with…"

"I… thought you were happy. I thought we were happy."

"We were. …I was."

I expected him to question what happened, but he didn't. He just nodded. "…And what about our baby? What's… going to happen, with this?"

I frowned. "…Lots of parents have… shared custody. I… won't ask for alimony. I'm sure the courts will determine child support based on your income, but…"

"No."

I blinked. "…I'm sorry?" I asked, confused.

"You're… thinking that you'll move away to Las Vegas. You never wanted to stay in San Francisco long term, and you wouldn't make him give up his job. And… you're thinking that you'll take the baby nine months of the year and I'll get a summer? …Sara, don't think I won't fight for my child."

I swallowed. "…Excuse me?" My arms loosened, slipping down to cover my abdomen as if that could give me an extra level of protection against what he was saying.

"…You cheated on me on our honeymoon. Who do you think they're going to sympathize with more?"

I shook my head. "They… It's rare for a child to be taken from its mother…"

"But it happens. …I could divorce you on the grounds of infidelity today, Sara. I wouldn't have to have you sign it for something like that. …Which would mean that you could take me to court for custody and your half of our possessions… but everything I would make from this point on would be mine. …You've given almost everything to charity. I can pay for lawyers; you can't even pay for your half of our debts…"

My voice was an incredulous whisper. "You would take… my baby… from me?"

He didn't look angry, he didn't rise, he just… looked resigned. "It's my baby too, Sara. I'm not giving it up without a fight, just like you wouldn't. …It's not my first choice, believe me. I would rather stay a family. I don't want our baby growing up in a broken home, spending time away from us… You might not love me as much as you love him, but you do still care for me… I can see it in the softness of your eyes. Sara, you wouldn't feel guilty for sleeping with him if you didn't still love me, a little."

I shook my head. "It's not the same… I've never felt this way."

"…But am I wrong to say you felt this way before you married me?" Silently, I shook my head. His eyes betrayed that this information hurt him, but nothing else did. "…And yet you say that we were happy. We could still be happy. …It wouldn't be the same, but it would be the best thing for our baby."

I stood up then, unable to listen to his craziness anymore, starting to pace the room. "Lawyers or no, you can't believe they'd choose you over me simply because I cheated…"

"No," he shook his head, "I can't."

I dropped my hands in frustration. "Then what are we even talking about?!"

"I think, when the court sees the options… A house in San Francisco, a faithful husband with a lucrative job and a history of charitable donations, who has three sisters in town to act as a support system and parents who would not only be willing but would be able to make the trip if an emergency came up and I needed someone to take the child long-term. Or… an unfaithful younger woman who wants to take the baby to live with her lover in the City of Sin whose job cannot cover her half of the debts, much less support a child. And if she's moving, can she even guarantee that she'll have a stable income? Either way, she'd be a struggling single mother with no support system—how reliable can the new man be if he sleeps with married women? …I'm sure that news would do wonders for his credibility as an expert witness in court…—no family, and a torrid family history, if the court chose to go into it."

I felt the breath rush out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for air. My head was spinning. "…You… wouldn't."

"…There's reason to suggest that you're not mentally stable, Sara. You get into moods where you can't get out of bed for days, and other times you don't sleep for days on end. You were in foster care with mandatory counseling, and you've always been a rather heavy drinker… Your mother died in prison, where she had been because she killed your abusive father. You have a brother who you haven't spoken to since the age of twelve, though not for lack of trying… he's as screwed up as you are, and yet he still doesn't want anything to do with you. …What do you think the courts are going to think of that?"

I shook my head, clutching my abdomen desperately. "You… you wouldn't. Jace… How can you be so… hateful?"

He frowned and moved over to me, attempting to place his hands on my bare shoulders. I flinched away and the pain flashed in his eyes again, but he shook his head. "…I'm not hateful, Sara. I don't _want_ to do any of this… But I'm not going to let you take our baby to Vegas to be raised by another man and see him or her… what? On holidays and summers? Alternate weekends when they're older? That's no kind of life for a child, and it's… unacceptable, for me. I wanted to be a father as much as you wanted to be a mother. …Not only have I lost my wife, but now you expect me to let you take my child without a fight, and it isn't going to happen."

I was gasping for air and this time his hands did fall on my shoulders, guiding me to sit down again. "…I'm really not trying to hurt you or be unfair, honey. …Breathe, Sara." He got me a glass of water, trying to calm me down, and with a minute of measured breathing and not allowing myself to think about what he'd said, I was able to stave off an anxiety attack. When I was calm, he took my hand, gently.

"…Listen to me. I… I'm really trying to be civil, here, okay? …I know that you would do anything for this baby. I mean, Sara, you and I both know that you would kill for it… and that I would too. And if you had some deep, dark family secret of mine that would guarantee I couldn't take your baby to another state and only allow you to see him or her three months out of the year… you can't tell me you wouldn't use it. So I'm just being honest with you… I'm not giving up my child without a fight."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So, I see two options… One, we get a divorce on board here, you go home with him when we dock, and we have a custody battle that I will do my damnedest to win… and in the process I will drag up your secrets, threaten your job, cast doubt on his credibility, and do anything else it takes to be granted my rights as a father… I have the resources, in money, in secrets, in support, in reputation. …It would be a long shot, for you to win. Or, if you don't like that option… you stay with me. We reconcile our differences, pack our bags, fly out today… and give the baby two parents and the life and home he or she deserves."

I was sobbing openly now, but he did not seek to comfort me, and I did not want it. I hated him right now. I wanted to kill him. He sighed softly.

"…You might not love me that way, but you know that we're good partners, in life. We could be happy, or at least content, trying to make the marriage work for the baby. …You can even have your own bedroom, Sara, if you hate me that much for everything I've just said."

I wish I could say I agonized over it forever, the way I did about being with Gil… but Jace knew my weakness. When it came to my child, nothing compared. I loved him as much as I loved my baby, I did… but I could survive without him. I couldn't survive the loss of my child. …And the way he was talking, I might lose my right to any custody at all. So I forced myself to calm down, I thought about what I could live through and what I couldn't… and then I nodded.

He smiled, snatching the ring up from the nightstand and bringing it back to me. I was still sobbing, and this made it worse—I didn't want to put his horrible ring on. I wanted the Gil's grandmother's ring. I slid it on anyway, the pain in my breast wrenching. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe I couldn't survive this either. He sat down beside me and I gasped, wiping at my eyes, forcing myself to speak.

"…You quit your job?"

"I haven't yet… but I will, if you stay with me." He said softly, wrapping an arm around me. I recoiled from it.

"You work somewhere eco-friendly." I said, not a request but a demand. "And we move out of San Francisco… I hate your older sisters and I don't want them around our baby daily. …But not to New York. I don't want to be near your parents either. And… we have separate bedrooms. You have no 'conjugal rights' in this marriage."

He was quiet, briefly, and then nodded. "Okay… but no cheating, for either of us. …Which means that if we're not doing it, you'd better invest in a vibrator." I rolled my eyes. Like any of this had been about sex. "We can't move to Vegas. …You have to be a stay at home mom. …And you can never speak to him or see him again."

I squeezed my eyes against the fresh wave of tears. "…I'm not going to be a stay at home mom. And… I… I have to… say goodbye to him. Before we go."

He shrugged, looking angry at this but trying to pass it off. "Fine. …But the minute we're on that plane and the doors close, that's it. …The end. …I'll go schedule us some flights. This afternoon, if I can… this evening or tomorrow morning at the latest."

He left, slamming the door behind him, and I let a wail escape my throat, finally dissolving into the fit of tears I'd been desperately holding back. This morning, I had never, ever been happier… and now… I wasn't sure if I'd ever been so miserable, and that included my childhood horrors and the disappointment I'd felt when I'd believed Gil hadn't been at the wedding. Because, this time, I'd had him… allowed myself to believe in a new life, and then I'd lost it again.

I cried and cried, the tears endless… I could not stop them to answer the door when the knocking came, and when Jace's voice came through the door, telling me he had the flight information, I had even less inclination to do so. He slid an envelope under the door and walked away, and I felt myself fall to pieces all over again. …How was I ever going to tell Gil? This would break his heart… hurt him so badly… I hated Jace, and I hated myself for having to hurt the only man I'd ever loved this way.


	50. Chapter 50

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry about the angst. :( I promise GSR in the end, along with lots of hot hot hot gsr sex before I wrap it up. Cross my heart.

...I also find it interesting that several people suggested getting Sam Braun to send a hit man after Jace... among other death-related ideas. ...Do you really think Grissom is capable of that? Lol. I have violent readers. :)

Jelly--Once again, you inspired a line in one of my chapters. :) Although, this time you're not "one of the characters", so it's a little less pointed. Still, though, all you. ...Do I even want to know about the red hot thing?

Gsrmania--Tell your husband I'm sorry. :) Hehe.

gsrgirl4eva--I have granted your wish. :) ...One of them.

* * *

Chapter Fifty:

I was worried when she didn't show up. When Catherine arrived and I allowed myself to look down at my watch again, I knew that she was a half hour late. I finally gave in, telling myself that I wasn't being needy or controlling, just protective. I hurried down to her room, knocking on the door, and when I heard her crying, pulled out the key she'd given me before I left that morning and slipping inside.

She was still in the towel she'd been in when I kissed her goodbye an hour and a half ago, and she was curled up on the bed, her hair drying but looking like she hadn't brushed it since she got out of the shower, and sobs were spilling from her lips. …She must have heard me come in, but she didn't look up or acknowledge me. I took a step towards her and heard a crinkle under my foot.

An envelope. I hesitated briefly, and then pulled out the information inside… it was a boarding pass, for tonight. A flight out of Tambor Airport to SJO… that must be San Jose, the capital, and then another flight from SJO to SFO… San Francisco. I swallowed, feeling a sinking in my chest. "…Sara…?"

"…I'm so sorry, Gil." She said, so softly I hardly heard it. I moved over to her, sitting on the bed and drawing her up to rest against my chest, her hair still wet and dampening my shirt.

"…I don't understand. I thought…" I stopped, seeing her left hand against my chest. She was wearing her wedding ring again. The realization hit me so hard it knocked the wind from me and I was gasping with it. "…I… Sara… Why?" I asked, disliking how desperate my voice sounded. …Everything had been so perfect, this morning.

She wiped desperately at her tears, but couldn't look me in the eyes. She sniffled. "…Jace came here."

Immediately I took in her half-dressed appearance and her hysteria and thought the worst. "Did he… hurt you, Sara? Did he… Sara, I don't… You have to tell someone! We have to report it! Why… would you put… the ring back on…?" I ended, trailing off, thinking that my initial fears didn't necessarily fit. She shook her head.

"He didn't hurt me. Not… like that." She sobbed. "I… He… He gave me two choices."

I swallowed. "…Okay."

"One… I leave him, like I planned, to be with you. …He… divorces me on board here, for my infidelity… and then everything he earns from that point on is his. We… give everything to charity, Gil. There would be nothing to split but the house. I don't make enough to pay for half the hour, much less… lawyers…"

I shook my head. "I can pay for lawyers, Sara, if that's what this is about. I… Is this for child support or…"

"No!" She wailed, her hands clutched at my shirt. "Gil… it's for… custody."

I felt a tightening in my chest, but it wasn't severe—I mean, sure, it was an asshole thing to do, but Sara should know how rare it was for the courts to separate an infant from its mother. "…Okay. We'll get the best custody lawyers in Vegas, honey. …If we have to sell my townhouse and take out a loan, Sara, we'll do it. …We'll be fine. They're not going to take a baby from its mother…"

She shook her head. "Yes, they will."

I frowned. "I… don't understand."

She wiped her eyes again, though her tears seemed like they'd finally slowed. Her voice came calmly now, but it was a strange calm that made the hair on my arms stand up… She seemed so… detached. "I'm… a foster child. It's in my record—and they could get my file for this—that every house I was in, they were required to take me to counseling. …My record would show… self-destructive behaviors, a disrespect for authority figures, a drinking problem as a young teenager, depression, night terrors… a history of mental illness."

At my frown, she sighed. "…My mother. After she killed my father who, it could be argued, was also unstable considering he beat his wife and children, she had a break with reality… didn't know who or where she was. She was in an institution for a while, before prison… she died in prison. And the statistics they could show on the effect of childhood abuse on certain personality disorders… it'd be unlikely that I wouldn't have one or two of them."

I shook my head. "That's crazy, Sara. …Anyone who knows you—"

She shook her head, the cold, numbness still ever present. "It doesn't matter if I had character witnesses, Gil. They would look at me and see a young woman who cheated on her husband on their honeymoon while three months pregnant who ran off to live with her lover—"

"Fiancé." I corrected, but she shook her head yet again.

"…Semantics. I ran off with you, this man who is supposed to have an unimpugnable character, but who goes on a cruise with a woman he works with and ends up sleeping with one who is married. I don't have a support system or a family, and the lover doesn't count for much… Even if I bring in a line of people who can say I'm not crazy, they'll look at everything and say that Jace is the better choice."

Assuming Jace himself didn't have any of those deep, dark secrets… she was right. And then, I understood. "…So option one is, choose me, lose your baby." She nodded, another sob shaking her chest as she tried to hold it down. "…And option two is… stay with him, keep the baby." She nodded again, tears leaking once more despite her efforts. I fought back my own pain as much as she did. "And… you chose option two."

She nodded again, and the floor fell out of my world. There had been no malice in my tone… I understood why she made the choice, and I couldn't even fault her for it… but once again, I had somehow lost everything. I nodded, too, despite wanting to scream 'no!', "I… understand."

"…I'm so sorry, Gil. I… I love you so much. More than anyone else in the world…"

_Except your baby_, my mind said, but I wouldn't speak the words. They weren't fair, and they would only hurt her. I would probably have made the same choice, but… the thought of her going back to a marriage like that, instead of being with me. "Sara… I love you too. I… You're everything to me. I… I can't stand the thought of him touching you again."

"Never." She shook her head, lifting it finally to meet my eyes. And in hers, deep and dark and brown, I saw the truth of her words—it was killing her, to make this choice, but even if I never saw her again… she would never be intimate with Jace again. I took some small comfort, knowing that she would be loyal to me, but it wasn't much.

I kissed her, hard, wanting to feel her again because I had so little time left with her… tonight. She was leaving tonight. And she was just as desperate—we tore clothes off each other in a frenzy and with no preamble I pushed inside her. She hissed a little, because I had not prepared her, but I didn't have to move… I had just needed to feel her around me. To be sure of one thing, right now… the perfection of our love. I closed my eyes, laying kisses over her face, caressing her body, shivering and pulsing as I felt her get wetter around me, shifting against me in gentle movements that were driving me crazy.

I wanted to go slow, like we had the night before… sweet and romantic and sensual… but I couldn't. My need for her was anxious and desperate and demanding and as soon as I was sure it wouldn't hurt her, I was pounding into her with that desperation, trying to make permanent the feel of her as I buried myself completely… trying to frantically learn each and every nuance of her body and her voice… the way she moved and the way she sounded and the way she felt… The way she made me feel.

I don't know where I got the stamina… adrenaline or desperation or simply God cutting me some slack, but even after finishing inside her, with tears streaming down my face, I was hard… and I wasn't going to stop having her, loving her, feeling her, until I absolutely had to.

Hours later, wrapped in each others' arms, in bed, unable to sleep… I made the suggestion that had been on my mind. "…I could… move to San Francisco. We could… still see each other. …Something would be better than nothing."

She shook her head against me, the tears finally dried, the grief having reached the point of being inexpressible. "I… was told I could never speak to you… or see you… again."

My eyes fell closed, my heart throbbing. This was really the end then. I turned to her, kissing her forehead. "…When I met you, Sara… I didn't believe in love at first sight or… soul mates… anything like that."

"…And now?" She breathed against me.

I sighed. "…I believe."

"…Do you believe that soul mates always end up together, in the end?"

I swallowed, hard. "…I want to."

"Me too."

An hour before she had to leave, she dragged herself out of bed, packing her bags… she did not do it in the methodical manner I would have expected… she threw everything into a clump in her suitcase, save for her change of clothes, zipped it up, and placed it outside the door. Then she came back to lay with me in bed. I bit my bottom lip. "…Jace doesn't have any skeletons… like yours? …Nothing?"

She shook her head. "I… don't think so."

"I'll… dig around. Call in every favor I have and write out some IOU's… figure something out."

"…How will you let me know?"

"…Do you have someone you trust? …Someone we can communicate through? I mean, Catherine's an obvious choice, but Jace would suspect…"

"I, um… Kyleigh and Michelle… my other bridesmaids. I… trust them, but then… I also trusted Rachel..._Slut_." She spat out.

"…She was the—"

"Yes." She said, harshly, and I felt her anger course through me too.

"If you'd seen me… if you'd never married him…"

"We wouldn't be like this, now." She said, and it sounded almost like a snarl. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I fucking hate her. …And him. I hate them!"

I kissed her forehead. "…Tell your friends about Rachel… if you still trust them… If they didn't know… have them send a letter to me at the Vegas Crime Lab, and anything I find, I'll communicate through them. …If I don't get anything at all, I'll… get Catherine to call from a disposable cell phone or…something. I'll find a way."

She rolled over and kissed me. "…I'm so sorry, Gil. …I never wanted this to happen. I… I was so happy."

"I know," I soothed, kissing her again. When I slid inside her this time, we didn't even move… we just laid there, holding each other tight, our bodies connected in the most intimate way possible, every once and a while sliding against each other, not for pleasure but for the comforting reassurance of feeling one another. We only separated when Jace knocked on her door, saying he was taking her suitcase and that she needed to be down at the taxi in five minutes.

We dressed in silence, she wrapped her still unbrushed hair into a knot at the back of her head, and picked up her purse, double checking for a passport and wallet. I wished desperately that I had somehow had the foresight to bring my grandmother's ring so that I could give it to her, to keep when she couldn't be with me… Instead, I walked hand in hand with her, the giant, gaudy thing Jace had bought her digging in to my fingers, a constant taunt.

Neither of us looked at him when we stepped off the boat and moved towards the cab he was standing beside. I turned her in my arms and pressed her against the door of the taxi, kissing her with as much love and passion and desire as I could, half not caring what Jace would think, and half wanting him to see it. He might have won this fight… he would have her with him… but he didn't have her heart. I did. I always would.

I pulled back and we were both breathless. I stared into her eyes. "…I love you. I'll never, ever love anyone like I love you."

"Me either." She swore. "And I'll never let him touch me, Gil. …Only you… forever." She said, repeating words whispered in afterglow, our first time.

"Forever," I whispered back, kissing her again, and finally releasing her. Again, she did not even look at Jace. She gave me a long, sorrowful look, bit back a sob, and slid into the cab. I had every intention of ignoring him further, but he stepped right up to me, so I met his eyes.

"…Did she tell you the conditions?" His voice was hard. I grit my teeth.

"Yeah. …She can't see me, or you'll use every trusting, honest, loving moment the two of you ever had against her… I'm aware."

I wanted him to be angry… to be as angry as I was… but he didn't seem to be. He just shrugged. "Good. Don't you ever come near my family again."

I didn't even think about it—I was not aware that I had hit him until he fell back hard against the taxi, blood spurting from his nose, and I realized that my hand stung. I shook it, thinking that the action had been over too fast… I had gained no satisfaction from the hit. …It didn't get my Sara back. I shook my head while he looked at me in shock, still trying to stem the flow of blood. "…They're not yours. Sara will live with you, and stay married to you… but she is _my_ family. …And the baby you used as a pawn to keep her, that's my family too. Not yours. …Just so we're clear."

He opened his mouth to protest just as I was lifting my fist to strike again if he said anything I was assuming he'd say… but the cab driver honked, and he shook his head, turning from me and crawling silently into the cab. …I let my fist fall, watching Sara turn in her seat to look at me as she drove away, tears running down her face and one hand pressed to her heart, like it was breaking, the other to her mouth, as if she did not trust herself not to cry out to stay with me.

They turned a corner, and she was gone.


	51. Chapter 51

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thank you for the generous outpourings of reviews for this. Apparently, I'm doing something you like (or hate... :P). I'm sorry the update came so late--I had two possible plans for how this story could go, and I finally picked one. It's probably not apparent in this chapter, but I struggle to write at all without a clear direction... :) Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Fifty One:

Apparently we were on a private flight—Jace had had to pay all the costs for a tiny little plane to get us to San Jose that day. It was awful. At least, once in San Jose, we were on a real flight with real people. I was able to get a stewardess to switch me into the only empty seat on the plane, as it was next to a bathroom and I warned her that the motion on planes aggravated my morning sickness. Jace was angry, but he wasn't going to make a scene, and at least then I could get some sleep.

I closed my eyes and replayed all the moments with Gil—the sensual and intimate as well as just the kind and caring… I thought back to the delight in his eyes when he was telling me about this bug or that one, and did everything in my power to memorize how he had looked in that moment, eyes shining, cheeks red from the heat, face tan and shaded by his silly straw hat, a light layer of sweat making him look all the more attractive…

I let myself imagine that we could have taken the trail ourselves… made love in the water by the waterfall. Hell, under the waterfall. I fell asleep then, soothed, dreaming of the cool water lapping over our burning bodies while I licked the salty sweat from his neck and he made me his, again and again. …I would always be his.

Once in San Francisco, I locked myself in the guest bedroom to sleep and bright and early the next morning, began moving my things from the master in there. Jace didn't say anything, though he seemed angry about it. We didn't speak that day, though I did make a trip to the Crime Lab, putting in for the rest of my vacation time—I had four weeks—gave them my four week notice, and that night, I locked my door again. The next day, he gave me a list of every company that had attempted to recruit him, along with their various locations. "…You do the research, you tell me which one to accept, and we'll make it happen…"

I scoffed, but figured it was the only way I could be sure he wasn't doing the same thing all over again—the rest of the time we had as vacation time, I spent researching everything I could. None of them were perfect, but one stood out as making an effort… It was in Boston, and I jumped at the chance. I mean, sure, we'd be closer to his parents than I liked… but I felt comfortable in Boston. I felt safer, there. It wasn't like moving to a foreign place all alone—because Jace didn't count. He might be living with me, but that didn't mean I wasn't alone.

The day we were schedule to arrive home, Rachel called me. Jace had gone in to work, so I invited her over. She commented on my tan and how amazed she was—she expected us to have piles of laundry around. She was surprised to hear that Jace was at work. I got her coffee and sat down with juice, rolling my cold glass between my hands.

"…We, uh… skipped the end of the cruise. Flew home instead."

"What? Why?" She gasped. "Is the baby okay?!"

I frowned at what I perceived to be false concern—how could she betray me and still behave this way? "The baby is fine. We… ran into someone on the ship."

She frowned. "Who?"

"…Dr. Grissom." She set down the coffee mug she'd been about to drink from, her eyes wide. I watched my juice. "…I suppose you thought, with my temper, that if I thought he hadn't shown, I would never speak to him again. …I really didn't want to, actually, but Jace just insisted we go say hello."

I looked up at her, my face expectant, and she sighed. "Sara… I was trying to protect you."

"…By lying to me when I was so clearly uncertain?"

She looked affronted. "No! Sara… I was trying to… You were just having cold feet! You love Jace! You… you've been so happy since you married him!"

I shook my head, not even able to scream at her. Screaming was an action I generally reserved for strangers or people I cared about—it was when you had meant something to me and betrayed me to the point that I had lost all faith in you entirely that I couldn't be bothered to yell. "I, uh… I married Jace because he was safe, and because you convinced me that if Gil wasn't there, he wasn't safe. …My whole life, all I've wanted is safety." I swallowed. "And now, I'm trapped in a marriage with a man I hate who is blackmailing me with the loss of my child to keep me with him, and away from Gil. …I don't feel remotely safe."

She looked so distraught, but my guilt didn't move me—she was beyond it. "Sara, I… I didn't mean—"

"I really don't… want to hear it. I figured I'd have you here, figure out if you were doing it to be spiteful or out of some bizarre loyalty to Jace or if you simply thought playing God in my life was for my own good… I have my answer now. …Just so you know, I wanted you to be godmother."

"Sara… Please, I… You're my best friend. I can't live without you. We… we always said we were the sisters we never had."

"We're moving to Boston. So I guess you'll just have to get used to it. …You know, even now, I would never betray you, like that. …There are so many things that Aaron doesn't know about…" I shook my head. "…I think you can see yourself out?" I rose, leaving my juice and going back to my room, curling up in bed. Kyleigh and Michelle wouldn't be off work for a few hours, but if I could trust them, I would call Gil from their house. Today was the first day he'd be back in the states…

When I heard her leave, I sat up slowly, moving to the computer and finding the phone number to Boston's Crime Lab—I dialed slowly, inhaling and exhaling…

"Crime Lab, Can I help you?" Came a woman's voice, her Boston accent thick. I smiled at the sound of it.

"I was wondering if you were hiring for level three CSIs? I'm a criminalist out of San Francisco and my husband is getting transfer—"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we don't have any positions to fill."

"…On any shift?"

"No, ma'am."

"Okay. …Thank you."

I sighed in frustration. Well, at the very least, there were many colleges in the Boston area… I could probably get a job teaching. Hell, I could send their crime lab my resume anyway… Harvard and Berkeley ought to carry a little weight, and San Francisco's lab, while not being up there with Vegas, was still quite respectable…

I spent the afternoon typing up a resume and printing multiple copies. With addresses I'd found online, I packed them in envelopes and applied postage, moving into my car with the stack as Jace was pulling in. "…What's all that?" He asked suspiciously. I frowned.

"Resumes. I need to work in Boston."

He frowned at this too, and silently held out his hand. I all but growled. "I'm not sending him a letter."

"…Then there's no reason I shouldn't be able to see."

I scowled. "I'm not going to have you searching my person constantly to make sure I'm not in contact with him… it's creepy controlling. You're just going to have to trust me."

He snatched the letters from my hand. "Well, I don't trust you. You slept with him on our honeymoon while pregnant with our child… which leads me to believe that there's very little you're not capable of." He handed them back. "Supper?"

I tossed my hair, apparently channeling Catherine, and feeling an angry sort of power as I walked away. "You know where the kitchen is." He had been ordering take out the past few nights as I secluded myself in my room—but apparently he'd expected that I would go back to cooking, once he was back at work, because he was more likely to burn down the house than he was to make something edible. He was wrong.

I mailed my letters, and called Kyleigh and Michelle's house on the way, tapping my hands anxiously on the steering wheel. I had a feeling they would be sympathetic… Kyleigh had been in a relationship with a man when she met Michelle. And they were far less likely than Rachel to assume they knew what was best for someone… chances were, they had no idea what she had done, because they would have told me.

"Hello?" It was Michelle, and she was breathless.

"Hi."

"Sara! Are you back in town today?"

"I am… Listen, are you two busy?"

She laughed. "No, we just got in the house… I had to run to get to the phone. Why, did you bring us amazing souvenirs?"

I frowned. "…Actually, I didn't. We… ended up leaving early. I've been back for a while…"

"Oh…" There was a sound and then I heard her turn from the phone, obviously speaking to my other friend. "It's Sara… wants to know if we're busy… No, no souvenirs… I don't know, but she seems upset…" She turned her mouth back to the phone. "Come on over, Sar'."

I parked in front of their home. "…I'm here."

"Oh. …Okay, well… we'll see you in a second then." She hung up, and their front door swung open as I stepped out of my car. Kyleigh peeked her head out—she had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, the exact opposite of Michelle, who had been born in Puerto Rico… she had dark hair, dark eyes, darker skin. Both were strikingly beautiful, though.

Kyleigh spoke as I walked up to her. "…I think I can see a little baby bump, Sar'…"

I smiled, despite myself, protective hands moving to my stomach. "…There's a little one."

Michelle stuck her head out too. "Don't let her get started… she thinks we need a baby, now, despite the fact that we both just started new jobs…" They each hugged me in turn. "So… you going to tell us what's up?"

I sighed. "It's… a really, really long story…"

Kyleigh slid an arm around my shoulder, guiding me into their home with a wink. "Is there any other kind?"

I rolled my eyes, hoping they were ready… if they didn't condemn me for falling for Gil while married to Jace, they would need to understand my childhood to understand the position I was in… "…It wouldn't hurt if you guys got yourselves a drink, first…" I said, thinking that this could only help.

Their laughter surrounded me, and for the first time since Gil let me go and I slid into that taxi, I felt somewhat human again. I had a feeling—I would get to talk to him tonight.


	52. Chapter 52

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Not super eventful, though I promise within the next chapter or two it's going to pick up. Hope you enjoy! :)

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Chapter Fifty-Two:

The rest of the cruise was horrible—I found myself envious of Sara, despite her company, simply because after the heartbreak we'd endured, it was intolerable sitting on a boat, surrounded by people having the time of their lives. Several women hit on me, which threw me—none had before this had happened. Catherine said brooding worked for me, so I took to doing so in my room instead of in public. It was better, once we left Tambor Bay, headed back to L.A. because then at least it felt like we were making progress… moving forward.

We had several hours before our flight back to Vegas, and though my initial plan had been to drop Catherine at the airport and go see my mother alone, after the way she'd gone out of her way to help me this trip, I figured I could let her in a little. So, I asked if she wanted to come along, and her eyes lit up. I mean, sure, half of that was probably at the idea of uncovering a little bit of my past, but the other half, I thought, was that she was genuinely touched.

When I rang the doorbell and she did not hear anything, she leaned over and quietly suggested I knock instead—it seemed like the doorbell was broken. Then, my mother opened the door with a big smile on her face and embraced me tightly. "Gilbert!" She said, before switching to signing, "Who is your friend?" She signed this with an expression on her face that implied she wanted Catherine to be more than a friend. I grinned, turning between the two women.

"Mom, this is Catherine Willows, my colleague. …You've heard about her." I said, hoping to remind her of the multiple conversations I'd had ensuring her that although my friend from work was beautiful, I was not attracted to her and therefore did not want to marry her and start giving my mother grandkids. It was actually really sad, now that I thought of it—I had fallen in love and, in my mind, had a child on the way… but my mother wouldn't get to meet either Sara or the baby… at least for some time. "…Catherine, this is my mother, Julia Grissom."

Catherine looked… alarmed. She smiled at my mom and then turned to me almost frantically. "Gil! I don't know sign language!" She said, as if I ought to know better. My mother smiled. "I can read lips, dear. Now, I have heard so much about you… How's Lindsey doing? Oh, where are my manners, may I get you a cup of tea?" Catherine looked bewildered as my mom led her into her home and I followed, closing the door behind me.

I had been planning to visit my mother before we flew back to Vegas regardless—I had intentionally booked our flight home late enough to allow for a visit—but ever since Sara and I had made love, I had been planning to come for a different reason. …I had hoped Sara would be here, when I asked my mother for it, but either way, I needed my grandmother's ring.

I stepped into the kitchen, noting that Catherine looked much more at ease—my mom was good at that. You couldn't feel uncomfortable around her for very long. She was busy making tea, and Catherine was walking around the dining area, looking at the art. She didn't speak, because my mother couldn't see her face, but my mother kept up the conversation all the same, elaborating on different pieces of art as Catherine came across them, whether it be her own work, someone else's she had loved too much to sell, or my own meager attempts at painting as a child.

Catherine giggled when it was mine, saying she wasn't sure it fit up there with the rest of them, and I gave her a look. My mom, of course, didn't hear her, and kept on talking about how hard she tried to get me involved in art when I was little. Catherine grinned and sat down in a bar stool beside the counter just as my mom was pouring three cups of tea. I cleared my throat, though of course this did not gain my mother's attention, and waited to catch her eye.

"Mom…" I spoke and signed, not wanted to leave Catherine out of the conversation. "I… I wondered if I could have… Grandma's ring."

She nearly dropped the teapot. "…Really? Oh, who is she?" Her eyes sparked then, and she turned back to Catherine, the same speculative look in her eyes. "…And you said you weren't attracted to her, Gil."

Catherine's eyes went wide. "Oh, no… No, Mrs. Grissom—"

"Julia."

"Julia," she nodded. "I… I'm not. …He has someone else."

"Oh." She frowned, turning back to me. "…When am I going to meet her?"

I sighed heavily, choosing my lie carefully. "…Not for a while. I've known her for a while, but we ran into each other on the cruise and… and I'm not sure where it's going. I just… know that she's the one, so… I want to be prepared, for when the moment is right. But, really, Mom, it could be some time…"

She sighed. "Oh, Gilbert, I knew it would be this way with you. You spend half your life hardly interested in women and then one day, out of the blue, you've found the one. …Just like your father." She said, with no small amount of affection, and I felt my ears turn red as she moved from the room to go get the ring.

Catherine threw me a teasing grin and finished her tea while my mom bustled out a moment later, carrying a worn box covered in shiny, light gray silk. She passed it to me, and I opened it, though I had known what it looked like since I was a very young child, so that Catherine could see—it was old fashioned, and the diamond fairly good sized, but the arrangement made it look far from gaudy or overbearing. It was classic and elegant and I could see it on Sara's hand without even closing my eyes.

We ate lunch with my mom, though she mostly talked to Catherine—the two, apparently, understood each other quite well. By the time my mother was asking me to load the lunch dishes into the dishwasher, she and Catherine were headed into the living room to look at photo albums of when I'd been a child. I cringed at this, though I did talk my mom into giving me a few… there was one of me in my baseball uniform in middle school that I thought Sara would like… and another of me as Robin Hood. Catherine wanted to keep it, and the only way I could see that being avoided was to take it myself and say I wanted to give it to Sara.

The flight home was long, though Catherine seemed to treat me differently, after the trip to my mother's. …Like we were closer. Although, maybe she'd been this way most of the trip… After all, we had gotten a lot closer than I ever expected, even before meeting my mother. Once at home, I just wanted to collapse in bed—I had this homecoming played out so differently in my head. We would have visited my mother together, she would already be wearing the ring, we'd pick up take out on the ride home so we could eat and go straight to the bedroom… She would talk about livening the place up, and I would tease her about screwing up my man cave, and when I finally pushed inside her, we would both know that she was here to stay.

Truth was lonelier than fiction, apparently.

That evening, nearing ten o'clock, after I had forced myself to start laundry and cook myself dinner rather than falling into bed and crying, my phone rang, and I pounced on it, hoping against hope that…

"Hello?"

"…Gil?"

"Sara!" I said, my world falling gently back into alignment at the sound of her voice. How sweet, how beautiful, how perfect.

"Oh, god, I missed you."

"Me too… How are you calling me?"

"Kyleigh and Michelle."

"…They didn't know, about Rachel?"

I could hear the anger in her voice. "No… They're big on people making their own decisions. They were really upset when I told them…"

"So, they're going to help us…?"

"Yes," she sighed happily. "I offered to pay all the long distance charges, but apparently they're on an unlimited plan. Which is good, because I have a feeling Jace will be checking phone records…"

I frowned. "…That's a little extreme."

"He ripped a pile of mail out of my hands today, thinking I was sending you a letter."

"…Sara, he sounds like he's getting worse. Are you… are you sure that you're okay, with him? I mean, that you're… not in any danger?"

She sighed. "I don't think so… but if he keeps getting worse, I'll file for divorce myself and go to Vegas. Abusive husband trumps abusive past any day."

The thought flickered in my mind of her faking some sort of abuse, just to end this once and for all… but the idea of her being hurt in any way was horrifying and I pushed the thoughts aside. "What were you mailing?"

"Resumes… We're moving. I can't stand to be in the same city as his horrible relatives any longer…"

"…Where to?"

"Boston."

I frowned. True, flying-wise it was only the difference of a hour or two, assuming you didn't have a long lay over, but having her live across the country meant I was not in driving distance in an emergency. "So far?"

I could hear her frown. "I… figured it didn't matter. If I couldn't live in Vegas or… anywhere close… it might as well be somewhere I could feel… comfortable."

I sighed. She needed that, for peace of mind… the same reason I had wanted her within driving distance. "I just don't like… the thought. Are you going to work at their Crime Lab?"

"I sent a resume, but earlier today they said they didn't have any openings…"

There was a brief lull in the conversation while I tried to wrap my head around all this information… all these changes she was making, and yet none of them were changes she and I were making… they were changes she and Jace were making. Finally, I gave up trying to be okay with that, and simply spoke what I felt. "…I wish you were here."

"Me too…" She sounded so sad… I searched for something to cheer her up.

"I… have your ring."

She drew in a breath. "I wish I could really have it."

"…Let me mail it to Kyleigh and Michelle."

"…What if he found it? I… would never forgive myself if something happened to your grandmother's ring."

"Wear it around your neck, under your shirt. Say it was your mother's… say you found it while you were packing to move."

"…Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." I said, wondering why she was so hesitant—her exuberant rattling off of their address, however, eased my mind. She wanted it, she was just worried… I was worried about her. I sighed softly. "I'm going in to the lab early tomorrow… start digging."

"…You can leave me messages here. I doubt I'll be able to come every night, but if we pick a day once a week or…"

"Don't you think that'll be suspicious? The same night every week…?"

"…We'll mix it up then. Whatever it takes."

I nodded, slowly, glancing in frustration at the clock. I didn't want her to stop talking, but it was a little late… I didn't want her to go home to an even angrier Jace. Even if he never laid a hand on her, the constant yelling and stress from fighting couldn't possibly be good for her. "For now, let's just play it by ear… I'll call this number back to let Kyleigh or Michelle know what I find and when I know I can talk again…"

"Okay… I… I should let you go." The regret in her voice is tangible. My heart aches with it.

"I love you, Sara."

"I love you too, Gil."


	53. Chapter 53

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: ...Hitting on an engaged man. Tsk, tsk, Jelly and Kathy. I know he's sexy when brooding, but... :)

Hope you guys enjoy. This chapter was tedious to write, so I'm hoping it isn't tedious to read--I was trying to get all the in-between details out of the way, in between a few more interesting things. ...If nothing else, the ending is good. :)

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Chapter Fifty Three:

Jace was in his room when I got home. I hadn't eaten, but I was anxious to avoid him, so I went straight to my room. There was a large vase with two dozen red roses. My heart leapt into my throat momentarily, thinking foolishly that Gil had sent them, but that was way too risky. I picked up the card—the words were simple. "I still love you. –Jace." With a sigh of disgust I lifted the heavy vase and hurried out to the kitchen, pulling the flowers from the vase to dump the water from it before depositing it and the flowers in the garbage. I went back to my room and closed the door, trying to sleep… and when a few minutes had passed, I heard his door quietly open and his footsteps out to the kitchen and back. His door closed with a light snap—he was still trying to be quiet, but his anger was getting the better of him.

I hardly slept, replaying Gil's words in my mind over and over again. They had not even been so amazing, but it had been so long since I'd heard his voice that being able to clearly remember and mimic in my head exactly what he'd sounded like… the deep, silky nature of his voice, breaking just a little when he'd told me that he loved me… it was heaven.

The next day, a Sunday, I scrubbed the house down and contacted a realtor about putting it on the market. And then I started packing—sure, we roughly a month left before I stopped receiving paychecks, but Jace had left a note on the counter saying he was putting in his two weeks that day, so there was no reason to believe I would have a lot of time. Besides, in a month I would be four and a half months pregnant, and I was certain that I'd be showing… it would be harder to lift boxes with the bump pushing them out.

Or so I reasoned—maybe I just needed to keep my days busy.

Monday, I called my regular ob/gyn for a checkup after the trip and to see if she knew anyone to recommend in Boston. I planned to shop around, but this woman was one I trusted a lot, so if she had suggestions… It was too early to tell the sex of the baby, and I was reluctant to make an ultrasound appointment when I wasn't sure how long we'd be in town. …Which meant I wouldn't be able to tell Gil before we were in Boston. …In Boston, it would be harder to talk to him. Kyleigh had suggested three-way calling… they would call him, and then call me on their other line, and put the two together… the phone records would show only their number calling me. The problem was that it would tie up both of their phone lines, and the calls would only be moderately private.

Once I had a job, maybe I could have him call me at work. I mean, not while I was supposed to be working, but… It could be done, right?

I expected the month to take forever, but it was a blur of activity… I was able to talk to Gil a little over a week later. He let me know that he was hiring a P.I. who used to be a cop he knew when he first came to the Vegas Lab to follow Jace, because all of the conventional searches he'd pulled in favors in order to do, even many of questionable legality, had yielded nothing. He was warning me that someone would be watching our home, while Jace was there. We packed up, Jace booked tickets to Boston and we found a house and purchased it, and he made a trip to meet his new employers and iron out the details.

When we got back to San Francisco, I was able to talk to Gil again… he was calling to see if Kyleigh and Michelle had received his package yet. They hadn't, though they called me the next day to say it had arrived… Jace questioned me, when I said I was going to go see them again. "They're my best friends and we're about to move across the country… I want to spend some time with them."

"You haven't been spending any time with Rachel…" He said, suspiciously. I scoffed.

"I hate Rachel." I said, and left, leaving him looking bewildered.

The package contained the ring, which was beautiful but made me nervous, just to have it on. I had brought a long necklace chain with me and slid it on that, putting over my neck, pleased to see that it fell into my cleavage, leaving no raised space on my shirt. As long as I wore t-shirts with collars that covered the chain, Jace would never even know I had a necklace on. It also contained a few pictures Catherine had taken of us, on the cruise. They had been before we had made love, and the sexual tension between us was clear even in the photograph, but still… they were nice to have.

I gushed over them, calling Kyleigh and Michelle over to look at him—Kyleigh gripped my shoulders. "He's hot for an old guy, Sar'."

This made Michelle frown, and she pulled the picture from us. "I wouldn't say that he's 'hot.' …He's… adorable. …You want to babysit him, not sleep with him."

Kyleigh and I grinned and exchanged a look—it didn't need to be said.

And then, before I knew it, my crime lab checks were collected, the furniture was loaded into moving trucks, and we were piling into Jace's car. We had sold my car—I had protested, disgusted at the idea of spending all that time with him, but the truth was that mine probably wouldn't make the trip—planning to buy a new one once in Boston.

I had expected to feel better in Boston. And while it was better than having to learn my way around a brand new city, I felt further away from Gil. I had previously thought that miles meant very little—unless I lived in Vegas, I might as well live anywhere for as much good as it did me… but looking around the new, empty house, thinking about choosing and decorating a room for the baby… and having to do so without Gil… I realized I had never felt further away from him.

Jace was home the first week, constantly around, asking me about decorating and arranging furniture and constantly trying to spend time with me… but he went to work the next week, and it was a relief. I emailed Kyleigh and Michelle pictures I'd found online of different kinds of baby furniture, and then called them and asked that they forward the email to Gil, to see what he thought… He emailed them back, saying he liked the dark wood furniture. I went out that day and ordered the set.

I started visiting with ob/gyns, and found a woman I was comfortable with… she stressed whatever was best for mom and baby, treating the father as if he were secondary… his involvement was only important if it was important to me. I loved it, and she had me set up my series of appointments with her receptionist with a glowing smile. I was going to like her.

And despite not wanting to take job in decorating the house that would never be a home, I felt better when I was busy, and I wanted to provide the best I could for our child—so I picked out paint, and spent a week painting the house and planning how to reorganize the furniture. I didn't dare try to move it myself, so I had to spend time with Jace, having him move things, at the end of his day. I didn't like it, but I also couldn't live in home that felt cold and empty… I couldn't raise a child that way.

I got a job as an assistant professor in the physics department at Boston University—the forensics department wasn't hiring, and as I had gotten my masters in forensics rather than physics, they were reluctant to give me more than an assistant's position. Some of that might have been due to the fact that I was expecting, but of course they couldn't legally say such a thing. I would help with lesson plans, grading, and more or less fill in for other teachers… The baby was due the following July, so I should be ready to start the fall semester, with my own full class load if they thought I did well during the remainder of the spring semester.

I told Jace, more because I felt I had to than because I wanted to, and he got excited, suggesting we go out to eat to celebrate. I made my excuses, rising to head to my room again, but stopped me. "Wait, Sara."

I crossed my arms and turned back to him. The press of Gil's grandmother's ring against my heart when I stood this way made me feel braver—like Gil was there with me, a talisman of strength within me. He sighed softly, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"I… know that this marriage isn't… going to be… the way it used to be." He said, and the pain was clear in his eyes. I looked to one side—I felt bad for hurting him, but what he was doing to me was far worse than what I'd done to him. "But… it isn't good for you to be stressed all the time, and… and it isn't good for our baby, either. …Can't we at least… have some sense of normalcy?"

"No." I said, point blank. He sighed again.

"So… we're going to treat each other like this for the next… eighteen years and five months?"

Hearing it spelled out like that made me gasp for air, like I couldn't breathe—that was nearly twenty years I would be tied to this man. But no, surely once our child was older, he or she would be allowed to speak for themselves? …It couldn't really be that long that I would have to go with Gil. I refused to believe that.

"Sara?"

I snapped back to attention, frowning. "Well, you could take back your threat of blackmailing, I could go back to feeling terrible for unintentionally hurting you, and we could arrange a joint custody arrangement between Gil and I and you… Maybe you'd even fall in love with someone else."

He scowled. "I'm not blackmailing you, Sara, I'm being realistic. Your 'joint custody arrangement' would be you get the baby most of the year and I get holidays… that isn't fair to me. If I have to lose you, and I can see that I have, I'm not going to give up my baby, too, without a fight. …It's not a threat, it's just… honesty. And if I'm being honest, I can tell you that I honestly don't believe this is a good environment in which to raise a child. …You don't have to like me, but you have to stop hating me…"

"No." I said, and went to my room without eating again, simply to avoid him. I had granola bars in my bedside table, having anticipated another situation like this one. …I didn't want his words to get to me, but they did. I could paint the walls and decorate my home and stress over all the external details of the world in which the baby would live, but it wasn't good for a child to grow up in a hostile home. Even if neither of us ever raised a hand in anger, the fighting alone would be detrimental.

The only good thing that came in the first month we lived in Boston was the ultrasound—I didn't tell Jace I had the appointment but he somehow appeared in the waiting room beside me moments before I was called inside, heightening my suspicions that he was going through everything—my emails, my mail, the phone records, everything. I figured my doctor would send him away if I asked her, but I didn't know her all that well yet… I didn't want to make a scene.

And after the appointment, I was positively bouncing when I called Kyleigh and Michelle to tell them, and to figure out a way for me to tell Gil. I didn't care what Jace said or thought—Gil was going to be a daddy as much or more so than he was. Later than night, I got a call from Michelle.

"Sara… Hi. I, uh… just was calling to say congratulations about learning the sex of the baby. I… know we talked about it, already, but…I'm so excited." I snorted—she was not good at being sneaky.

"He's out in the garage with an old car he's restoring to fill up the time in the evenings, because I won't spend time with him. Besides, I don't think he has the phone tapped… Were you able to get a hold of… caterpillar?"

That had been Kyleigh's suggestion—using a code word for Gil instead of using his name. I had thought it was silly, but when the particular code word came to mind… it was too funny to not use.

"Hello Sara," came Gil's voice, deep and soft and sensual. I jumped in surprise and yet shivered at the same time—Oh, the things he did to me.

Michelle giggled. "I'm going to set the phone down for… ten minutes, and then come back. If you're still talking, I'll leave again. …Sound good?"

"Yes, thank you." I said, my heart hammering in my chest, moving to double check that Jace had not yet reentered the house. …Would he get suspicious if I locked the door to the garage? Probably. I heard the distinct sound of the phone being set on a table, and breathed in deeply. "…Gil?"

"Hi honey… how was your appointment today?" I could tell he was trying to contain his excitement, to let me tell him in my own time. I had no such self-control.

"It's a girl!"

"A girl!" He said, practically shouting, his voice positively jubilant.

I grinned. "…Is that what you wanted? Are you happy?"

He sniffled. Was he crying? "I'm so happy, Sara. I… I didn't want it to be anything but healthy but… oh, a little girl. She's going to look just like you."

"If she's very unlucky…" I said, but he clucked his tongue and sniffled again. He _was_ crying.

"No… if she's very lucky. Her mother is the most beautiful woman in the world."

"…I wish you could have been there. I'm gonna scan an ultrasound picture tonight and email it to Ky and Michelle for you."

"I wanted to be there too. I couldn't think about anything else, all day."

"…Really?"

"Of course, honey… Did you think I wouldn't be?"

I frowned. "No… I just…"

"What?"

"…It's so hard, only getting to talk to you so often… I get insecure, thinking that you'll decide I'm not worth all the trouble…"

"Don't. …You're worth that and so much more… it won't be this way forever, Sara. We'll figure something out."

"How? You said you couldn't find anything and—" I heard the door to the garage open and caught my breath in my throat, immediately whispering. "I love you, Gil. I have to—" When I heard his footsteps in the kitchen, on the same floor, I changed to speaking out loud. "So Ky's birthday is coming up soon, huh? Do you know what you're going to get her yet?"

He sighed. "I love you too, Sara. …We will figure something out. I promise."

"Ohh, well you can tell me later, when she isn't in the house…"

"You are worth it, Sara. …I'm so happy it's a girl."

"Oh! I know you have to get going, but you never said if you guys had any girl names you liked…"

I could hear the smile in his voice. "…I like Ayla."

I smiled too, struggling to keep my voice sounding like I was just talking to a friend. "Oh, that is cute…"

"It's Hebrew for 'Oak Tree'… Our first kiss was against an oak tree."

I felt my eyes watering. "…That's beautiful."

"I love you, honey."

I swallowed, blinking, forcing my voice back to indifference. "I love you guys too."


	54. Chapter 54

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: I seriously can't tell you guys how much I love the reviews, especially when reviewers interact with each other. ...Why does anyone else write in any other way? I mean, sure, if you sell books you make money... but you don't get the neatly laid out page of praise and humor... :)

Anywho, so I've tried this whole story to make Jace a sympathetic character who makes a few mistakes and has the misfortune of falling in love with someone who is meant to be with another... and either I've failed, or you GSR people are just so crazy about any third parties that I was doomed to start. Still, I'm trying once again. :)

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Chapter Fifty Four:

Sara was still talking to him.

…And she was so angry with me, all the time. I had thought that it would fade, once we were in Boston… that we could rekindle a friendship that might eventually lead to love. …I didn't have to be the person she loved the most, as long as she did love me and would spend her life with me… I could forgive her loving him, as long as she didn't talk to him.

Which is not to say that it didn't hurt me, knowing that she was in love with another man… I think the irrational nature of my actions—buying flowers and then slamming doors, being kind and coaxing one minute and blindingly angry the next—is a testament to that. But I could live with not being the person she felt the strongest for. I could… She was my wife, and it would be enough if being my wife was her main priority.

I thought, the day I came home and she came up to me, asking me to move furniture because she was done painting, that we would talk… that some bridges could be mended. Hell, I would take her just behaving civilly, right now. I mean, I had years to wear away at her anger… and though Sara had a terrible temper, it was usually short-lived. Eventually, she would have to interact with me, simply to function as my life partner… eventually, we would slip back into the rhythm we'd always had, in married life and before it, and she would learn to be content with me.

I gave up the job, despite the major promotion I'd been about to get—she couldn't know about the promotion, and arguing to stay was not a smart move… working with that company was what had turned her against me in the first place. If she'd never gotten angry, maybe nothing would have happened… Or, at least, I could have realized the man's intentions before she was so swept up in him. But I hadn't realized, she had gotten angry, and so the job must go, because she was more important.

The fact of the matter was that I loved Sara… I had never felt this way about another woman in my entire life. I found every single thing about her sexy and wonderful and inspiring. Just to look at her, even when she was fuming with anger directed solely at me, would make my heart beat harder in my chest. But if I ever fell out of love with her, or fell for someone else… it would not mean the end of the marriage.

…Something Sara didn't know about my parents was that my mother left us for a while, when I was eleven… She eventually came back, and it was something we never talked about, as a rule, but… it had left its mark on me. I had decided, then and there, that love shouldn't dictate everything. I mean, you should marry for love, but once in the marriage, if you loved the person you were married to, that was good… but if you were a good and faithful partner to the person you were married to, that was better.

Especially for the children.

Sara felt the same way I did about a broken home… she just didn't realize that living without one parent for a period of time could be as harmful as constantly living with one who was abusive to the other parent. And if she did understand that, I was certain she would logically make the same choice to stay with me, for our daughter. She would do anything for our daughter—that much had already been demonstrated. But Sara, smart as she was, wasn't logical. She was consumed with her emotions… so she would never choose me over him, if given the choice.

I know she says I'm blackmailing her, but I'm honestly not… I didn't say that I would kidnap our daughter if she left me, I just warned her that I would do whatever it took to prevent her taking our child away to be raised by another man. Was that so extreme a thing to do? She had cheated on me, on our honeymoon, and my only action was to say that if she planned to take my child to call another man 'Daddy,' I would do anything I could to prevent it? I had given her a choice—fight, or compromise. It wasn't blackmail, it was problem-solving. And she made a choice… but she wasn't sticking to her side of the bargain. I couldn't prove it, but Kyleigh and Michelle were helping her talk to him.

If she weren't, she'd probably get lonely… be more willing to accept friendship, simply to have someone to interact with. …We could ease back into a relationship that had worked for us… made us happy, even if she hadn't felt as strongly about me as I always had about her. …I found a note she'd scribbled to herself when I was looking for the cordless phone in her room—it was on her desk, stating the time and address of her ultrasound appointment. It took a lot of finagling to get it off, especially since I was so new at work, but I thought that that at least would show her how much I cared… that I was making an effort, for us.

She just looked irritated that I was there at all. …Which isn't fair. Love me or not, she's my daughter too! …More mine than _Dr. Grissom's_. …I positively ache when I think of his words, outside the taxi, in Costa Rica… saying that Sara and our baby were his family, not mine. I avoided a scene, and a fight, because despite knowing that he'd thrown the first punch, Sara would never forgive me for raising a hand in violence against him. Another thing that wasn't fair, but there was nothing to be done for it… she was more important to me than defending my pride.

I spent the evening working on a car I'd been working on restoring—an old Camaro… and ode to Sara, in my own way, though I wasn't sure she'd pick up on that. I would rather be inside, curled up watching a movie with her, asking about her new job and telling her about the proposal I'd just written that day about the amount of money we could save using recycled paper in our packaging. I mean, it wasn't really what I'd been hired to do… I was restructuring their entire financial department and changing the way they did things… but the difference was significant enough that I figured my boss wouldn't complain that it wasn't specifically on task.

I wanted Sara to be proud of me… I was trying to be better. I mean, I knew that I should have told her what Mercer and Murdoch had been doing… should have quit. She just started talking about babies and wanting two or three and when I thought about college funds and the fact that they would likely all have their mother's brains and need to go somewhere Ivy League… I didn't want to give up the money, and ninety nine percent of the companies who could pay me an equal salary were doing the same things, just in smaller amounts. I had personally worked my way through a school like that, and there was no way I was giving all my attention to my schoolwork… I was too exhausted. …I wanted something better, for our children.

I mean, I'm a firm believer that you can't be certain of anything… Sure, we were doing well now, but both of us had had parents who were educated, worked hard, and because of life, in one way or another ended up trying to raise their children on next to nothing. I wasn't willing to take for granted that I had twenty-some years to raise the money for their education… I wanted to set it aside now, whenever I could convince Sara to spare it from her various charities.

I couldn't even begrudge her that—she was so consumed with guilt over how successful we'd become, and her generosity was one of the things I loved most about her.

…All of this was a moot point. She was talking to him, and she would never put her anger for me aside if she were talking to him. And we would never find our way back to a comfortable, companionable relationship if she never stopped hating me. I couldn't accuse her of anything else… That approach, spurred on by anger and frustration and no small amount of hurt, was not working. I needed to gain my control back… go back to being the husband who was willing to allow her all the space in the world… the husband who didn't realize that 'I need space' was code for 'I'm going to go fuck an entomologist'… the husband she had loved and been happy with. And then… I would need to find some other way to stop them talking.

I wasn't sure how… but it had to be done. I had a daughter to protect. …I had a marriage to save.


	55. Chapter 55

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Okay, I've resigned myself to the fact that most of you won't be able to feel sympathy for Jace, for the time being. :) I wasn't trying to say that what he was doing was right or even that you should like him, I was just hoping to convey the difficulty of his situation as a motivating factor behind his actions. Because I have a sneaking suspicion that if some other woman were doing to Grissom what Sara is doing to Jace, and he reacted the way Jace has, I would have just as many reviews touting how Grissom was only acting that way because he was desperate and -insert some rude acronym instead of the woman's name here- is being unfair, trying to take his baby away. :) Just sayin'...

Anyway, Sorry for the late update, I had conferences for two hours after I got off work tonight, and so promptly came home and fell asleep... which means that I've screwed up my sleep schedule like nobody's business. :) Also, I want to thank JBCC (as well as several others who have mentioned it since) for the idea about Grissom being there for the labor. I don't think I would have seen it as a possibility without the suggestion putting the thought in my head, and I really like the idea. :)

Thanks for the passionate reviews, either way. They make my day (or night... you know... if I end up not sleeping.) Hehe.

* * *

Chapter Fifty Five:

The following months were a blur—I got ultrasound pictures of our daughter in an email from Kyleigh and Michelle, and then a few weeks later came a picture of Sara with her shirt pulled up, showing how big her stomach was getting. Despite our attempts at communicating regularly, she often had to get off the phone… Kyleigh and Michelle weren't home during the day, and Sara was only home every once and a while, between classes… which meant that the time we had to talk was always when Jace was home. Thankfully, he was spending a lot of time on his car.

Sara told me she thought it might be a Camaro, but she hadn't really paid attention… which struck me as significant. Maybe she hadn't noticed it was the car they'd had a rather personal encounter on, but I had… and it told me that Jace wasn't giving up.

Which made me nervous. …That's understandable, isn't it? It wasn't that I didn't trust Sara, it was that for as long as I'd known her, I'd gone home alone almost every night, heartsick with loving her, while she curled up in bed with him. I mean, sure, she had her own room now… but she was much closer to him than to me. Even though I knew she couldn't control the circumstances, it grated on me.

There were other things, too, that told me that as time went on, Sara was warming up to him. Or, at least, easing up on him. …Which was good. I mean, I had suggested as much, worried about how the stress of her living conditions would affect her, the pregnancy, and Ayla… but seeing such a thing happen was troubling.

For example, she was talking about cooking again… telling me that she'd had a crazing for cheese so she'd found a recipe for gourmet macaroni and cheese, or that she'd been halfway through frying walleye for supper when she was overcome with nausea at the thought and ended up eating cereal for supper instead. It shouldn't be a big deal, but it told me she was cooking full-sized meals again… cooking for Jace, rather than allowing him to survive on take out.

There were lots of little things like this. They shouldn't have bothered me—I had told her that the fighting wasn't good, and that I wouldn't feel betrayed if she let things calm down between them. But that didn't mean I wanted to think of them getting closer to having a functional marriage while I was alone, across the country… she never mentioned spending time with him, or even eating with him… but that didn't mean it never happen. For the most part, she didn't mention him at all unless it came up specifically in conversation. So there was really no way to know.

I had mentioned flying out to see her in May, when she was working less due to summer school. I could get a hotel, she could take some time off of work, and when Jace thought she was going in to the office every day, she could come over and see me… show me sonogram pictures first hand, let me feel her belly—she was seven months, and I would surely be able to feel movement… have some sort of connection to life I loved so much and yet was never able to see or touch in a tangible way. …She was afraid of Jace finding out. She didn't say no, she just said it worried her… so I let the subject drop, at first.

As her due date approached, I brought it up again… especially when she started telling me about the baby dropping… how she had to pee all the time and how she felt like she was constantly waddling and how Ayla always kicked upwards, aiming at her ribs, so she was worried she would be breech if she didn't wiggle her way around pretty quick here. She delayed, she made excuses, she gave me vague and uncertain answers… and it worried me.

Maybe she just wanted that moment to be one she shared with Jace. I mean, I knew, of course, that I wasn't Ayla's father but… Sara and I had treated her and the situation as though I was… she had often told me she was getting scared about labor, and really wanted me to be there, but now we had waited so long that if we didn't schedule something, Ayla would be born before I'd ever get to see Sara again… and it would be nice, to see both of my girls in one visit, but it would be harder for her to get out of the house every day with a newborn. A lot harder.

To top it all off, every once and a while I would look up from a book and realize that for the longest time I hadn't noticed the hum of the refrigerator or the tick of the clock or the low rumble of the dryer… and I would wonder if I had been intensely focused, or if I had honestly stopped hearing those things. I mean, I might be worrying unnecessarily, but now I had it in my head that I had Sara and Ayla to support, once we found something about Jace that would make him let them go, and the idea of being out of work due to a genetic defect was frightening.

So frightening that I couldn't really think about it. I had been pushing it aside, refusing to address it, for months. Maybe if I didn't think about it, it would go away.

When I got a call in the middle of the night from Kyleigh and Michelle's number, I did something I had never done… I dropped my kit and the piece of evidence I had been collecting and turned and walked out of the house we were processing, despite Catherine's concerned questions trailing out behind me.

"Hello?"

"Gil?"

"Sara?"

There was the regular clunk of one of her friends, I was not sure who, setting down their phone so we could have a private moment, and then she sighed. "…I've been thinking something kind of crazy."

"What is it, honey? Are you okay? It's the middle of the night…"

"My due date is coming up…"

I knew as much, of course. It was in exactly two weeks and four days. "…I know, honey. I… Tell me you're okay, please."

"I'm fine." I let out a sigh of relief. "…I want you to be in the delivery room with me."

I gasped for air. "I… Are you sure? How?"

"My doctor… I think she's figured out that things aren't right between Jace and I. …She always sends him out of the room for at least fifteen minutes, every appointment, so we can talk in private…and each time, she keeps stressing prioritizing my needs. …Saying that anyone I wanted or didn't want in the room, all I had to do was say the word, and she would make it happen. I… I was scared, at first, over what Jace would do… but I want you there."

"…And not allow him in?"

"We couldn't. …He couldn't know that you were there."

I sensed something in her voice, that I wasn't used to hearing, and it caused me to pause, frowning. "…Are you okay with that?"

She sighed, and I could see her in my mind's eyes gnawing on her bottom lip in worry. "…I feel… guilty… not letting him in."

"But?" I prompted, sensing it at the end of her statement and also, perhaps, hoping for it.

"…But I'm too scared to do this without you." She said in a rush, and it sounded like she was ashamed of that. I closed my eyes—I didn't necessarily feel right about what had happened with Jace… I had expected that she would talk to him, apologize for hurting him, and there would be a period of time in which there was understandable anger and bitterness… but that, eventually, I could also apologize to him. We might never be able to be friends, but I had always thought we could be civil in our relationship as Dad and Step-Dad… So I understood her guilt, especially as she hadn't complained about him looking through her things or being harsh with her in a long time, but I felt this gnawing uncertainty at it too.

If she hadn't been afraid to do it alone… or, perhaps, if she had been more afraid of what Jace would do if he figured us out… how would the birth have played out? He would be in the room, not me, and when the pain got bad and he was the only one in the room who she knew… the only person who wasn't a nurse or her doctor… would she take his hand when he offered it? Would he lay a kiss to her sweaty brow in between contractions and slip ice chips into her mouth, his fingertips brushing against her beautiful lips, over bright from her teeth biting on them…?

These were things that filled my fantasies as often as anything else and my stomach rolled at the thought that he would get to do them instead of me. "Of course I'll be there. …What if you don't go on your due date?"

She chuckled softly. "I'm about ready to pop, honey… if I don't go on my due date, my doctor will induce me…"

"…What if you go early?"

"I'll call the girls, they'll call you, you jump on a plane… most first labors take hours and hours…"

I sighed softly, cringing, hating myself for the words I had to speak, because I knew firsthand how Sara dealt with guilt—she overcompensated, in order to feel like she had righted the situation. "…You could have both Jace and I there…" I swallowed, running a hand over my face, realizing with some surprise that it was shaking. I didn't want him there, in our moment, but she felt guilty… and I was afraid that that would turn into her trying to make up for the slight of not allowing him in the room by trying for a closer friendship with him…trying to rebuilt their bridges.

Like I said, I have a little bit of a hang up over that fact that as long as we've loved each other, I've been sleeping alone while she's been either sleeping or living with him. It's worrying.

"…I don't understand."

"…Do what he did to you. You have the power to let him in the room or not… tell him that if he wants in, he has to let you invite me… otherwise, you'll do it alone."

"Alone?" she asked in a small voice.

"Oh, honey, I wouldn't make you do it alone… it's a bluff. That way you don't have to feel guilty, and I can still be there. But if you just don't want him there, then don't have him… I was just trying to help."

She sniffled softly. "I... I don't know, Gil. I..." She paused, and then her voice came in a hush. "…I think I hear something moving across the hall. I have to go. …I'll talk to you soon?"

"…Yeah." I said, sighing softly. "I love you, Sara."

"I love you too, Gil. So much. …You promise you'll be there, no matter what?"

Her voice was very small, and despite not liking that she should sound so afraid, it at least allayed some of my fears. She could have him in the room if she wanted him, and she still sounded meek at the thought of doing it without _me_. I was filled with renewed conviction—I had never doubted her commitment to me, once it was made, and I wasn't going to start now. It was a difficult situation, for both of us, and we'd only get through it if I could trust her. "I promise, baby. No matter what."

"…Goodnight." She whispered, and I whispered the single word back, listening to the loud click that came over the phone and closing my own with a heavy sigh. It took me a long minute before I remembered that I was still at a crime scene, standing off to one side of the house, behaving as though I was in my own little world when I was really surrounded by people.

I trudged back into the room, picking up where I'd left off with only a cursory glance at Catherine. After a long moment, she called over, "…You wanna grab a beer after work?"

I managed a small smile. She really was a life saver. "…Thanks, Cath."

She flashed me a smile, unaware of a smear of printing dust on her nose, and returned to work… causing me to smirk a little wider and reminding me to do the same.


	56. Chapter 56

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: As always, I love love love your reviews. You all have me laughing out loud reading them. Thank you so much!

Gsrmania, you're impressive--you have your husband much more involved than my fiance, and I'm writing the damn thing. :) Is he a psychologist? His opinions are very interesting. I was thinking about this today... Do you think that Jace is treating his child like a bargaining chip? I mean, okay, obviously he is... What I'm trying to say is... It's not all that uncommon, in my experience, for women to use their pregnancies to their own advantages, sometimes in minor ways, and sometimes in major ways--my sister had a friend who joined the national guard, but said that if she got called to go overseas, she'd just get pregnant. And I know that that's an example of doing so before the baby is real... but I know that a lot of men, especially in the first trimester, like when Jace made his ultimatum, have trouble feeling like it's real, because they're more removed from it...

Sorry, I spent my morning thinking about that. Which was good--I got yelled at, first thing, 6:15 am this morning, so I was glad to have other things to occupy my mind after that. Reviewers? Feel free to opine. :)

Hope you guys enjoy!

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Chapter Fifty Six:

I was huge.

I mean, really, I'm tall, but I've got a rather small frame… there is no way my bone structure was adequately supporting all this weight. My back ached, my ankles swelled, my breasts throbbed, I was constantly peeing, never ever comfortable when I slept, and Ayla was apparently going to be a soccer player or a kick boxer or a dancer of one kind of another, because she was always kicking me. Always.

At the very least, I had read about having your baby be awake when you were, so she would also sleep when you were. So I would rub my belly, sing or talk to her, read aloud from the papers I was grading, tap my hands on my belly in time to the classical music I had picked up at Gil's suggestion, trying to wear her out… and it usually worked. She would take naps, but it seemed like she was kicking a lot less when I was trying to sleep.

It was one of these nights, before I tried this, when she was up and kicking, that I tried to calmly walk myself through the delivery and ended up only just staving off a panic attack, calling Kyleigh and Michelle in the middle of the night and apologizing but begging them to call Gil for me… Kyleigh passed the phone to Michelle, who managed to get me to calm down a little and slow my breathing before calling him him, telling me that I never had long and I needed to keep my head about me.

Really, she was hero in that moment.

And when I finally got to talk to Gil, admitting that I was scared to death to do it without him and yet still felt guilty for the fact that wanting him there would necessarily exclude Ayla's real father, Jace, who had been a lot better, in the last few months… he sensed the other thing—I felt guilty that I felt guilty. Like I was betraying Gil by not wanting to exclude Jace… and he vindicated me. Gave me a solution.

Now I just had to broach the subject with Jace.

I felt strange, in the kitchen, cooking his favorite meal… it felt strangely domestic. I mean, I had gone back to cooking for both of us after one of his takeout meals had given him food poisoning and he'd been up through an entire night, vomiting, but it was never personal… I would make sure it was done before he got home, I would dish up two plates, put one in the oven, and eat the other before he got home.

I would stay in the living room, trying to be civil, while he ate at the table… and when he came to sit beside me, I would make a decision—stay and watch TV with him, or retreat to my room. I usually made this decision based on how close he sat to me—opposite side of the couch or in a chair, I would watch an hour or so… stop when I got tired or bored—right beside me, I might sit through half an hour—and if he was too close, I would move away immediately.

I might be angry with him… I made hate what he was doing to me… but the fact of the matter was that I couldn't sustain hate for that long when he had done so many other good things. Not that saving me from being raped or having been the kindest boyfriend and most giving husband, prior to the cruise, made it okay to blackmail me into submission… but it meant that there was affection for him, mixed in with the anger. I could never love him again, the way I had for a time… not now that Gil and I had found each other, but I did want him to be happy… I wanted him to find someone who would love him back in a way I could not. I wanted him to have as much time with Ayla as Gil or I, I wanted us to find our way back to the comfortable camaraderie we'd shared, both when we'd just been friends and when we eventually became lovers.

I knew that, with everything we'd been through, when I left him for Gil we could not be friends… there was too much history and too much hurt… but couldn't we mutually wish each other well and think fondly on the time and the genuine love we'd felt? I mean, you know, when enough time had passed for us both of us to be that well-adjusted…?

But this was different—dinner would not be ready until just before he got home, and I would eat with him. I would be more than civil—I would actively ask about his day. And when I broached my suggestion, I would try to make the threat behind my words subtle, unless he made it worse. So it made me nervous, because I didn't want to send the wrong message… I was just trying to put him in a good mood. I briefly worried that maybe I was going over the top and should try to eat quickly, but when I heard the garage door opening, I gave up on that idea, instead dishing up two plates and placing them on the table to cool while I turned down the heat on the stove and cleaned up the kitchen quickly.

He stepped inside, and stopped dead. There weren't candles on the table and it was set casually, with our places opposite each other, not on either sides of a corner so that knees could brush intimately… but I could see from him face that it had surprised him. I straightened my back, thinking the best thing for it was to explain the meaning behind it immediately. He lashed out when his feelings were hurt, so I didn't want him thinking I was trying to rekindle a relationship and then have that idea fall through on him.

"I… was hoping I could talk to you about something." The tone of my voice gave me away—too professional, too distant. He sighed, his shoulders visibly dropping a little, but nodded as if that at least made more sense to him.

"This is really nice, Sara. Thank you." He looked at me and I recognized the longing behind his eyes—he wanted to draw me close to him and kiss me. I broke the eye contact.

"You're welcome. …Go ahead, sit down, I'll be out in a minute."

So he did, but he played the gentleman, waiting to eat until I had come to sit across from him, waddling around the table and lowering myself into my chair with a little difficulty. "…You look so cute like that."

My eyes darted to him in alarm, but he cleared his throat. "I wasn't trying to… it's… comical. But sweet. …Is she still kicking a lot?"

I offered a hesitant smile. "Always. I… I'll let you feel, the next time she is…" I said, because I suddenly realized that he had not once felt her move and hadn't even asked. Considering my behavior lately, he'd probably been afraid to.

A pang of guilt shot through me—how many times had I described it to Gil and said I so wanted him to feel it? I hadn't even thought of Jace wanting that… I simply didn't want him to touch me. I frowned down at my meal, realizing that though my anger had felt righteous and justified, it may not have been the best way to ease the man into feeling sympathy for my plight. I had behaved as a prisoner, and so he had treated me as one.

His gasp of surprise and his eyes lighting up made the guilt intensify. I vowed to be fairer, in the future. "Really? …I mean, you… Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure. Jace… I really wanted to bring something up to you."

"Go ahead," he said, setting down his fork. I smiled.

"You can eat, I know it's your favorite…" He grinned and picked the fork up, but his eyes kept flickering back to me, letting me know I had his attention.

"…My due date is coming up."

"I know! I'm so excited!"

"And, I… My doctor keeps telling me that the only people in the room with me will be the ones I choose… she wants it to be a stress-free environment."

He set his fork down again. "…Okay…"

"I don't want your mother… any of your family… to be there."

He sighed in what must have been relief and picked up his fork. "Of course, Sara. Whatever makes you comfortable…"

"There's more."

He swallowed and set his fork down again. "…You want _him_ to be there."

I nodded. "I do."

He licked his lips, his eyes locked on mine for a long, long moment. "…Am I right to assume that if I say 'no,' then you won't let me in the room either?"

I bit my bottom lip. "…I was hoping you would agree without me having to give ultimatums."

"But you're willing to, if I don't." I nodded, slowly, and he sighed. "…Can I lay down a condition?"

I hesitated. "…What is it?"

"I… I don't want to hear him call her… his. Or… refer to himself as 'daddy.'"

While I understood this sentiment, the thought of telling Gil, who I did refer to as her daddy on a regular basis, that he couldn't do that…was unthinkable. I felt horrible, but I shook my head. "…I can't do that."

He exhaled in a huff that was simultaneously pained and desperate, leaning forward a little and closing his eyes tightly. I tried to imagine Jace having another woman call Ayla 'Mommy' and just the thought, so much easier to handle than the reality, had me clutching my rounded stomach in desperation, just to make sure she was still there with me. I swallowed hard.

"I'll… I'll make sure he doesn't say anything to imply… that she isn't yours. …We all love her, and I want… the delivery room… to be a place of truce. No harsh words, no fighting… just three people who love her and want to welcome her into the world…"

He sat still for a moment, seeming to consider this and also to realize that it was probably the best he was going to get. He nodded, slowly, and then glanced up at me. "…He's not… staying here. And… you two… I mean, you're not going to…"

I raised an eyebrow. "…You think I'm going to want sex right after giving birth?"

"No." he said, frowning. "But… before, you might. I… Sara, I can't handle the thought of that."

I cleared my throat, looking at the table. "Jace, I'm not in love with you anymore. But I do love you… I care about you… I don't want to hurt you, but you have to realize the position you're putting me in."

"…So you did. …You planned to have sex with him days before giving birth to our baby."

I shook my head. "Semen contains a chemical that can trigger labor early."

He snorted. "Oh god… I can't believe this. I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"I'm just being honest with you. I love him, Jace. I didn't mean for things to happen this way and it kills me that it hurts you, but…" I gasped softly, and he frowned.

"What?"

"…She's kicking."

His eyes lit up, which irritated me as at the moment she was kicking at my ribs and it was rather painful. "…Can I?"

I nodded, and he was out of his seat in a second, running his hand gently over my stomach, searching for the pressure. I took it, guiding him to the top of the bump, and the next kick landed squarely against his palm. He gasped and looked at me with a glow in his eyes. "Oh god… she's really in there." Without warning, he had put his head to my stomach, ear pressed flush to it, his voice coming soft. "…Hi baby. It's Daddy… Do you know how much I love you? Daddy loves you so much, baby…" Then he looked up at me in alarm. "…We don't have a name picked for her!"

I bit my bottom lip. "…I was thinking…Ayla."

He beamed. "It's beautiful…perfect." He turned back to my stomach. "Hi Ayla…" Another kick came where his hand was resting against me, and he chuckled. "Well, hello… Are you trying to talk to Daddy?" He stroked my stomach where she had kicked lovingly, as if he were caressing her head.

I smiled softly, feeling tears in my eyes. "It's Hebrew for… Oak Tree."

He smiled, glancing at me again. "Our first real date was under an oak tree… Do you remember? I took you on a picnic and that Frisbee hit you in the back of the head…"

I laughed, but I was a little uncomfortable… I hadn't expected the meaning to be significant to both Gil and Jace. I hadn't wanted that. I frowned, thinking that maybe we'd think of another name… but no, I had been calling her that since I'd discovered she was a girl. It was who she was, now. He didn't notice my discomfort—he was back to cooing to my stomach, absolutely enraptured. He glanced up at me, after a long moment, and sighed.

"While he's here, I don't care what you do, as long as I don't have to see it… but he doesn't come early. He can arrive on your due date or when you go into labor, and only stay a day after Ayla's born."

"…Okay." I said, knowing how hard this was for him. He offered me a smile that did not seem genuine—it seemed like it was simply the only expression he could muster to hide his pain. And I felt bad for it, but what more could I say to him? …For now, I would call this progress.


	57. Chapter 57

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: First of all... this chapter is not necessarily integral to the plot. I wasn't certain about including pregnancy lovin', because I don't know how weird that is to some people... but when I think about Sara and Grissom, apart for six months, and especially the way both of them think and analyze things... I can't imagine it not happening. But, like I said, if it's weird to you, go ahead and skip this chapter. Or, skip the very end of this chapter. Either way, I think was very un-detailed and un-graphic, so it shouldn't be too bad.

Now, onto personal stuff: My parents are coming into town this weekend to meet the fiance's parents for the first time. Depending on snow (Can you believe that? In May!), they may come either tonight or tomorrow, but either way my whole day is going to be crazy busy. So, there may or may not be an update tonight, but it will probably be late if it comes at all. Same thing tomorrow--late, if at all. Aaand, on Sunday, it'll be late afternoon or later, before I get another one up. I realize it isn't the most opportune place to stop--I had intended to get through the birth, at least, but I've been so busy... so, it didn't happen. I'm sorry about that. This next week is finals week and then the following Thursday or Friday I'm out of town for a little over a week... and after that, I go back to working full time. Sooo, before I leave on the trip, I'll try to get you guys to a good stopping point, because I really don't think I can finish this before I go, and then after that, updates will more than likely only come after 3 pm Central Time. Still, with less no homework, chances are I'll be able to update several times in a night... plus, I'm hoping that I'll be able to pick up one of my WIPs this summer.

...Whew! Okay. I'm sorry. Brevity is not my strong suit. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! Thanks for all the reviews!

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Chapter Fifty Seven:

"…You mean you're going to be on one side of her, with him on the other, while she pops out a kid bearing his DNA but who you would like to call you Daddy?"

I groaned. Catherine had a way of making the twisted convolutions of our situation seem even more twisted than they were. And they didn't need the help. "_The kid_'s name is Ayla. He has a right to be there, but she wants me there… We're all adults. We can make it work."

Catherine raised her eyebrows and glanced at me from the driver's seat of her vehicle—she was driving me to the airport. It was early morning, just after shift, and though Catherine had spent the night working, I had been at home, trying to rest before my trip, but getting very little actual sleep… I was excited and nervous and could not relax enough to get more than a few hours. "Well, if you think so, Gil. …Didn't you punch the guy the last time you saw him?"

I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Yes…"

She just smirked, pulling up to drop me off. "I hope you don't mind if I don't park and follow you in… I'm exhausted." I smiled, and she leaned over and hugged me tightly. "…Remember, when she's in that delivery room, everything she says, she's right."

I chuckled. "Thanks, Cath. …For everything."

"Yeah, yeah, get out of my car before I get a ticket…"

I grinned and took my duffle bag in hand, hurrying into the airport. It was early, but when you figured in waiting time, taxiing, and my layover, I wouldn't arrive until 11:55, Eastern Time… I had been told I couldn't come until the due date… and by the time I saw her, it would officially be past midnight on July 21st…Ayla's birthday, unless of course labor took Sara into the next day. …I was hopeful that it wouldn't, because Catherine's horror stories about thirty hour births had left me shaking. To be fair, I wasn't sure if she were exaggerating or not, but either way I wanted Sara's pain to be short lived.

I did manage to sleep on the plane, in part because I was exhausted and in part because there was no concern behind it—no fear of not waking up in time, no feeling of not moving forward at all. Even as I closed my eyes, I was getting closer to her. My layover was long enough that even if I had to wait for everyone to leave the plane and a stewardess to come wake me, I would still make it with time to eat… so I relaxed.

The layover in Chicago gave me a chance to get a slice of pizza—it just wasn't the same anywhere else—and to call Sara directly. We were in a situation in which the rules were temporarily suspended, and it felt amazing to not have to jump through hoops to talk to her. She was excited, getting nervous, couldn't wait to see me, complained that she felt so big and heavy that she didn't even want me to see her this way… I assured her that she would be beautiful and that I had been spending months fantasizing about touching her belly and feeling Ayla moving… She hung up only when I had to get on my next plane, repeating my flight information several times.

I couldn't sleep on this flight—I was too keyed up with excitement.

And when I finally landed, it took every shred of control in my body to watch my watch carefully, not standing to join the cue walking off the plane until it was midnight… I was playing fair, this weekend, for as long as I could. And when I finally saw her, I couldn't believe it. I fell in love with her even more, in that moment—she was round everywhere, her smile luminous, her eyes deep and inviting. I literally ran to her, pressing her to my body and my forehead to hers, hands moving in seconds from her back to her hair as I kissed her and then down to her stomach even before I pulled my lips from her.

"God, I love you." She said, the minute she could speak, and I felt heat flare up in me.

"I love you too." My hands moved over her stomach. "And you, little Ayla."

She grinned. "Did you check any luggage?"

"Nope."

"Let's go then."

We turned to head out of the airport, hand-in-hand, both of us beaming… and I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. She did waddle, a little, but it was endearing… and she hadn't been exaggerating on the phone when she'd told me she was massive—like, seriously, I didn't know how her thin frame could support the weight. The bump was lower down than the pictures I'd seen, but I guess I should have expected as much… Catherine had lent me a bunch of her old baby books and I had purchased a number of them myself, so I could understand what Sara was going through, as it was happening.

I could help it—I reached out and touched her stomach while we were walking. "…It's almost surreal, actually being able to touch her. …Being able to touch you."

She grinned and blushed, leading me out to her car in the short term parking lot. "Do you want to drive?" She asked, and I found myself laughing.

"…Are you asking to be nice, or because you hardly fit behind the wheel?"

"…A little of both." She admitted and I tugged her to me again, capturing her lips. Oh, god, I had missed her. And bizarrely, I had wasn't sure if I had ever desired her so fervently—but my baby books had informed me that while some women felt far more sexual during pregnancy, others wanted nothing to do with it… so I kept it light and tame, releasing her from a kiss that clearly said 'I miss you' but not 'I want you.'

She gave me directions to the hotel I had rented, and grinned when she pulled her own bag out of the backseat after we'd parked. "…You don't think you're pushing it, a little?"

She smirked back. "He said he didn't care what I did, and he knew I was picking you up at midnight. …I promised him that we'd be at the house tomorrow morning and that we'd all go to the doctor together… at my last check up she said she'd definitely induce on my due date, because Ayla's taking up about all the room I have in there. She's huge…"

I wrapped an arm around her and guided her into the hotel. Check in felt like it took forever, but finally the door to our room closed behind us and for a few precious hours, I had her all to myself. I immediately threw down my bag and pulled hers from her shoulder, tossing it too, before falling to my knees and lifting her shirt to lay kisses over her massively pregnant belly. When my fingertips slid over her, reverently, and she shivered… I had to stop, breathing deeply, knowing that a shiver could mean a thousand things and—

"Please, Gil, kiss me…"

I leapt to my feet—I didn't know if it was her hormones or the fact that we hadn't seen each other for six months, but the minute our lips collided, I knew that she wanted me too. I also knew perhaps more than I ought to about sex with a pregnant woman, because I liked my fantasies to be informed… I had had far too many lonely nights without her, and I liked to imagine her just as she was, rather than some vague memory of the past… which meant imagining my way around the bump.

She pulled my clothes off me quickly, but I pulled hers off slowly, relishing in the feel of her skin and the differences, great and small, that the pregnancy had made in her body. A single brush of my fingertips between her legs had her gripping me tightly and gasping and moaning… which made my head positively spin. I had read that because of increased blood flow to the area, during pregnancy some women were especially sensitive and responsive… and that thought alone had me panting.

I pulled away from her, arranging the pillows so she could lie on her back without laying completely flat, which I had also read was a concern after a certain point—and with how big she was, I could certainly agree—and then reached for her, guiding her to lean back against the pillows which leaned in turn against the headboard, and then kissed her feverishly. "…Are you sure?"

She nodded, tilting her head back, and I moved down between her legs, trembling with anticipation. …When the third orgasm moved through her, simply by the stimulation of my mouth, I felt like a freaking god. I mean, really, why on earth would men ever want their wives to go back to the status quo… I was more than ready to attempt a fourth when she stopped me, gasping and clutching her stomach, her eyes wide with fear. "I… Do you think it's… I'm not sure if I'm…"

"Shh," I soothed, moving up to her and turning her on her side to lay curled up to me as much as was possible. "Braxton Hicks can sometimes be triggered by an orgasm… it should go away in a half hour. If it doesn't, we'll get dressed, call Jace, and head to the hospital…"

She swallowed. "Are… are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, even if Ayla comes now… it won't be in the next half hour. And she'll be just fine… she's ready."

She chuckled softly, leaning over to kiss me. "She's ripe. Every time I'm in the produce section at the grocery story, I expect someone to come thump my belly and—Oh!" She gripped herself again and I gently rubbed her stomach, hoping to help take it away.

The aftershocks died away within about twenty minutes, and almost as soon as they did, she was drifting to sleep. Sure, I'd have to take care of myself in the shower tomorrow morning, but it was a very, very small price to pay for her contentment. And after the amazing night we'd had, I would do just about anything to play by the rules and set Jace's mind at ease… I realized that being in the birthing room was something I would have done, with or without his consent… but the way it had worked out was so much less stressful for Sara. I was grateful to him, for that. I would do everything I could to mind certain boundaries tomorrow… Tomorrow, when Ayla would come into the world. My sweet, beautiful, little Ayla.


	58. Chapter 58

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and sorry for the delay. :) Hope you like this chapter, and chances are I'll have another up shortly... after not writing for days, I'm itching to.

To answer a question, 'Ayla,' in my head, is pronounced with the A sound, not the I. But, if you feel particularly inclined to pronounce it differently, I'm okay with that. For the purposes of this story, the most important part is the meaning. :) Which you guys will see, eventually...

Now, onto this chapter--I asked some women in my life who've given birth and did my share of research via the google machine (despite it failing me in the end of Dead Ringer), but I myself have not yet had the pleasure (or pain), despite my future mother-in-law thinking we need to get on with it already. :) So, my descriptions are adapted from knowledge I gained second hand and may not be as accurate as many of you women could do, based on your own experiences. I'm sorry about that--I did my best.

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Chapter Fifty Eight:

I didn't need to be induced.

Gil and I got up and showered together, and though this time around the shower was much larger—a full sized shower/tub—I was so much bigger that it felt just as cramped at the tiny shower we'd shared on the cruise ship. He didn't seem to mind though—in fact, it almost seemed like my massive belly was as attractive to him as any other part of me, including some he had been known to lavish attention on in our limited past encounters.

We dressed and he ordered us room service for breakfast while I dried my hair as best I could with the low-powered hair dryer on the wall that made the bathroom lights dim when I turned it on, and put it up in a ponytail for simplicity's sake.

After breakfast, with a little reluctance, we packed up our things and put them in Gil's car, headed toward the home and prison I shared with Jace, to pick him up and drive to the hospital. Gil was surprisingly good-natured as I drove us towards what would undeniably be an awkward situation. His face was decidedly calm, his hands relaxed on his thighs where he sat in the passenger seat, watching the cityscape of Boston and talking about different lectures he'd given here over the years and a Red Sox game he'd gone to when the Harvard forensic anthropology teacher had given him tickets to thank him for making the trip on such short notice.

Meanwhile, my stomach was full of butterflies. Which was saying something—my abdomen had very little room left for anything, at this point. I wasn't sure what to do when we pulled into the driveway… Did I take him inside to find Jace, give him a tour of the house, reintroduce the two? 'Oh Jace, husband who I have wanted to divorce since I slept with Gil Grissom, you remember Gil Grissom, right? The last time you two saw each other, he punched you and said that your baby was his… and I spent last night in his hotel room, while you spent the night alone in bed, waiting for the next day in which I would give birth to said baby…'

I mean, really, there was no tactful way to deal with the situation. Maybe I'd been crazy to think this would be easy. I was gnawing the skin off my bottom lip when we pulled onto the street and Gil, sensing we were about there, reached over and placed a gentle hand over mine, clenched and white-knuckled on the steering wheel. "Don't worry, honey. It's all about you today—I promise I'll play nice."

We turned into the driveway and the butterflies disappeared—instead, I felt this tight, looming sense of foreboding deep within me, in the pit of my stomach. I was certain I was going to hyperventilate. We didn't go inside—Jace was already outside, locking the door, the bag we'd had packed for me for weeks in hand, and then Gil had jumped out of the front seat and slid into the back, deferring the place beside me to Jace. I wasn't sure, exactly, whether I liked or hated it, but the flash of surprise on Jace's face and his lack of snide remarks made me thankful. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

The feeling, the nervousness, didn't go away, however, even as we pulled onto the freeway. There was even small talk—Jace asked how I'd been feeling and if I were nervous, and when my responses were short and tense, Gil asked Jace, "Are you nervous or excited, for the birth of your daughter?" My eyes went wide with Jace's… he was deferring fatherhood to Jace. Jace managed a small smile even, glancing into the back seat, and with a glimmer of hope I thought maybe we were at a turning point—he would see that Gil and I had no intention of taking Ayla from him, and he would let me go without a fight…

They discussed his nervousness, and excitement… the nursery… and still the feeling didn't subside. Shouldn't I be feeling better, now that they were at least being civil, even if the conversation was decidedly uncomfortable? But no, the feeling of impending doom persisted. It wasn't helped by the back pain which had been plaguing me for months but which seemed to be much worse than normal today, almost throbbing, or the headache that was coming on with surprising rapidity that I blamed on the little sleep I'd gotten the night before.

And when a shudder of pain rolled through me, like the worst cramp I'd ever had on my period but so much worse… I couldn't help it. I gasped, gripped the steering wheel tightly, and closed my eyes.

We were lucky that Jace had been paying attention—he caught the steering wheel, keeping us from hitting another car—and calmly spoke to me, despite the precarious nature of our situation. "Sara… Sara, honey, open your eyes."

I snapped them open, still in pain though it was receding, realizing with no small amount of surprise that I was still driving, thankful the cruise control had been on. I didn't know what to do—I was driving, I was pretty sure that had been a contraction—and a bad one, at that… Would they all feel like that?—and I was in the middle of four lanes of traffic.

"Sara…" I turned to look at him, quickly, eyes darting between his eyes and the road. "Turn on your blinker and your hazards, switch lanes to the right… take this exit coming up here. Okay?"

I nodded, going through the motions, uncertain but wanting to do it quickly—When would the next one come? All of the books I'd read, the questions I'd asked, everything I'd been expecting about being calm and prepared and informed went out the window. I was internally panicking, and I didn't know how to handle it. It was everything I could do to follow his instructions—Gil's hand, falling softly on my shoulder, was perhaps the only reason I was able to do even that… he grounded me, calmed me, reassured me, all in a moment and a single touch.

Once having successfully navigating over and taking the exit, I pulled into a parking lot and parked, releasing the steering wheel as soon as I could as if it were burning me, my fear and surprise tangible in every movement. Gil was already getting out of the car. "Jace, you get in back with Sara, I'll drive…"

And though Jace looked like he wanted that, very, very much… his sensibilities overrode him, and probably only because Gil's behavior had been so deferential up to this point. He shook his head. "No… I know where I'm going. I… It's too hard to give directions, in this traffic. I'll drive and you… you can sit in back… with her."

I knew that it pained him to say this… to offer it… and a glance at Gil's face told me that he realized the sacrifice too. I was about to say I'd probably be fine—my sensibilities were returning to me and I knew that contractions could be hours apart at the beginning—when another one rolled through me. I was more prepared for it—able to perceive, this time around, the way it started slow and built in intensity before subsiding—and though I balled my fists and hissed, managing to keep my eyes open, this seemed to make up their minds for them. Gil had moved around the car, helping me out and guiding me into the back seat with him while Jace slid behind the wheel and adjusted my seat forward—despite being taller than me, my bump had made it so I had to drive much further back than he liked.

Despite their concern and the fairly short amount of time between those two contractions, I didn't have another one all the way to the hospital. Jace wanted to drop us off at the front, but I said no and that I would be fine… so he parked and they walked me in together, Gil's arm around my waist and Jace's over my shoulders. It was strange—not only because they were so easily sharing me, but because at the moment, there was no reason in the world why I could not walk myself.

Once inside, again, Gil allowed Jace to speak, to guide me to sit, to call the shots… he let him feel like he had some control over what was going on, and it seemed to help. They handed Jace paperwork once they glanced at me and realized my labor was by no means imminent, saying they'd page my doctor and get my room ready. Gil leaned over to me, where we were sitting, while Jace spoke to the nurses. "…You okay, my love?"

I smiled softly. "I am… It… it really surprised me, but… Ayla's coming. I… couldn't be happier."

He squeezed my hand. "…I hope the pain wasn't too bad…?"

I chuckled a little. "It was pretty bad… probably more so because it surprised m—" I squeezed his hand tightly as another one gripped me, a low, desperate whine slipping from my lips. His eyes were soft, crumpled in concern, his hand squeezing mine back. I tried to give him a smile a moment later, when it subsided, but it didn't look like I fooled him. He told me to lean back and stretch my feet out, to see if taking some pressure off would help. I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself than I had, but I complied with a frown—he was only giving out instructions because he cared.

A moment later, Jace was at my side, saying it would just be a minute and asking if I were okay. I nodded as best I could, and it didn't look like he believed me either. He suggested I get up and walk—he'd read in baby books that it helped take your mind off the pain and could speed up labor. I sighed in frustration at being issued a second set of instructions. Forget awkward—going into labor with these two men on either side of me was going to be incredibly _frustrating_.

Still, we were moved to a room within minutes and then there was the awkward moment in which Jace set my bag on the bed and I moved to it, pulling out the nursing gown I'd purchased for the occasion—I didn't want to be stuck in a hospital gown, and this was modest enough that I wouldn't feel awkward in front of Jace, attractive enough that I wouldn't be embarrassed in front of Gil, and it convenient, for when I would have to attempt breastfeeding.

They were reluctant to leave me to change alone, and yet neither man was willing to suggest the other stay while they step out… I glanced between them, briefly, before sighing and pulling the curtain around the bed to change alone—because changing in front of both of them was not an option either. I stripped myself out of my clothes unceremoniously, for once not caring about my usually anal-retentive tendencies to pick up and fold clothing before putting on more. I hesitated, and then slid out of my underwear—it would need to come off soon anyway—and then lifted the gown and let it fall over my frame, adjusting the absorbent pads over each breast and the waist band beneath them, leaving more than enough room for my massive belly.

I climbed into bed and called that they could come around. Jace frowned at the clothes on the floor, picking them up, folding them, and putting them back in my bag before setting it next to his chair. Gil was on my left side, already seated and holding my hand, but his eyes had been on Jace the whole time, a slight frown pressing against his lips as he watched my husband fold my panties and bra. …Undergarments which Gil had had his hands all over this morning—I told you he found the whole pregnancy thing sexy…—and which Jace had not seen nor touched, yet somehow had the right to fold and set aside, because he was the husband and the biological father.

I squeezed his hand gently, offering a soft smile of reassurance—and his eyes lit up, grateful for the personal moment. I broke from him briefly, to place my hand to my breast, where we both knew, though Jace did not, his grandmother's wedding band rested. He gave me a soft smile and took my hand back, laying a soft kiss on it, while Jace looked decidedly away.

I sighed when I realized this, seeing the pain etched in his profile, thinking that by the end of this I would either be a master diplomat or have completely given up trying to be tactful and fair between the two men monopolizing my hands. When another contraction moved through me and I clenched each of their hands, releasing air through my teeth, I had strength of mind only to think that it would probably end up being the latter of the two.


	59. Chapter 59

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Soo, once again I must say that I've never given birth, so this is my best attempt. Forgive me the inaccuracies. Thanks again to JBCC for helping me and inspiring a moment. Also, it was never my intention to have the birth on Mother's Day, but I'll take the credit anyway... which reminds me:

Happy Mother's Day! to all the mother's out there. :) We had the kids at my daycare plant flowers in little paper mache cups with pictures on them with a little sign that said 'My Love For You Grows and Grows! Happy Mother's Day!' but, of course, the flowers hadn't grown yet because although we gave dads two weeks to come in and do it with their kids, the ones that came at all, came on the last day. So I had a bunch of one year olds giving their moms cups of dirt and saying "Mommy! Dirt!" ...Grr. :) I, however, did not give my mom or my future mother-in-law dirt. So I felt good about that.

Enjoy!

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Chapter Fifty Nine:

It was horrible.

I had gone into the room thinking that I was extremely pain tolerant… a survivor, my whole life long. I could do this whole labor thing like nobody's business, because I was used to pain.

I was begging for my epidural by noon, and had been up and down, walking most of the morning, but I was apparently still only just a centimeter dilated, so they didn't want to do it early. Every part of me ached—but my back was the worst. Jace offered to give me a massage first, but I refused when I saw the look on Gil's face… when Gil offered an hour later, I said I was fine, because I was trying to balance on a tightrope between them. By one thirty, I had given up on that idea—I told them together that I was cashing in, and expected a good fifteen minutes from both of them.

It seemed to make neither of them happy, but I was beyond caring and it hadn't even gotten bad yet. I'd been warned that as it was my first child, it would take a long time, but this was getting really effing ridiculous.

Around two thirty, the contractions seemed like they sped up of their own accord—they were coming more often and more predictably, and they last longer. Gil, who was on the side of the bed with the pager button, called someone in to check whether I could have the epidural yet… we were told 'soon,' at which point I cursed the poor woman out of the room.

Jace and Gil both looked alarmed, although I caught the hint of a smirk from both of them… which only made me more upset. I was being ripped apart from the inside, and they thought my anger was amusing.

They gave me the epidural at four, and I took a short nap, relieved to have a moment free of pain—I should have worried how Gil and Jace would interact, stuck in the room while I slept… but I couldn't and I didn't. I saw my doctor for the first time just before five—Dr. Blake. She bustled in, apologizing for not having been there sooner, although I had been warned that my doctor might not be very present… apparently Dr. Blake was a doctor who tried to check in throughout the entire labor, but she'd had another woman go into labor three weeks early first thing this morning, so she'd been detained.

She greeted me amiably and Jace cordially, and then introduced herself to Gil with a sort of knowing expression, as if she finally understood the dynamic between me and my husband to some extent—after all, she had been the one stressing my right to include or disclude anyone I wanted. She looked over the charts and the readouts, said everything looked good, and checked my progress—six centimeters. She said we were moving right along and that I was doing great, and then excused herself.

I was starving, so they brought me clear broth, a biscuit, and Jell-O. The smell of the broth turned my stomach, so I ate Jell-O and my plain, boring, tasteless biscuit with a scowl the entire time, which made both men smirk again. Really, it wasn't funny—they each took a turn stepping out of the room, and though neither would tell me so, I was certain they'd gone to the cafeteria and had a sandwich out of my sight… especially since Jace came back with tiny piece of something between two of his teeth and Gil came back with a fresh stain on his shirt—mayo, if I had to guess.

Some CSI—he was not so good at hiding evidence.

At six thirty it felt like things were picking up again—I couldn't feel any pain, but I could feel the pressure that came with each contraction and it lasted and lasted… and then Dr. Blake was back, checking my progress, telling me that I was just about at nine centimeters and that Ayla was coming—That was something I had always liked about the woman: Once she knew the name we'd picked, she referred to her that way. Despite the epidural, I started to feel a little bit of pain at this point, especially when it seemed like there was hardly any break between contractions, if I got one at all. I mean, it was better than it had been, but it was decidedly present.

"You have to push with the contractions, Sara." Jace advised.

"Go to fucking hell!" I politely refused.

"Let's breathe together, honey," Gil suggested, trying to assist.

"Are you going to share the pain and push something this size out of _your_ vagina?!" I asked. "No? Well then I think I'm doing just fine on my own." I assured him, with nothing short of absolute grace and poise.

Dr. Blake seemed to find great humor in the entire situation, chuckling at my responses, and though I had begrudged Gil and Jace their smirks, I didn't hold the woman's laughter against her—I had seen the pictures in her office… she was a mother of four. She understood.

I was sweating, pushing with my contractions, thankful my medication had been increased a little, and when Dr. Blake announced, "She's crowning!" I wasn't sure whether to cry in amazement or happiness or relief—but I did start crying.

Both men rushed to see, and I tugged them both back impatiently—Jace had not seen between my legs in months, and there was no reason for it to start now… and Gil would be leaving again in a day, without seeing between them before he did… I wanted the memory he took with him to be from the night before rather than of… this. I mean, sure, they were probably already seeing a lot more than I would have liked… but I wanted to prevent this particular moment, if I could. I had seen enough live birth videos to know that it was horrifying.

Dr. Blake grinned up at me—"Do you want to feel it, Sara?"

I blinked in confused, half-delirious, certain I had misunderstood. "…Now?"

She chuckled again, "Give me your hand…"

I gave it to her, stretching up a little to facilitate the encounter… "Oh my god." Tears were streaming as I ran my hand over the hair-covered hair that was literally coming out of me. I had made her… she was mine.

When the next contraction came I was snapped out of my moment of shock, hands finding their way back to my nontraditional birth partners. With a grunt of pain and a gasp of exhaustion I pushed harder, Dr. Blake announcing, "That's it! Her head is out! …The shoulders now, Sara…"

"Oh fuck, are you kidding me?!" I wailed, slamming my head into the pillow and feeling my back arch as another contraction moved through me. Despite being exhausted and emotional and so ready to be done… I took a deep breath and pushed with each contraction, panting and gasping and sweating and wanting to have my Ayla in my arms as soon as possible.

With half a scream, my nails digging into the hands of both men, I felt her slide free and Dr. Blake say something about her being out. I collapsed on the bed, hardly aware of anything after that—not the Apgar scoring or the cutting of the cord or the delivery of the placenta—all I know is that when I heard her cry, I allowed myself to relax, knowing that she was okay. When Dr. Blake handed her to me, she still had vernix in her hair—and she had a surprising amount of short, damp, dark curls on her head—her head was slightly oblong, and her eyes were the brightest of blues.

I gasped softly—she was so beautiful. I felt the world around me fundamentally shift—I had thought, previously, that she was my whole world… and now, I knew, that she hadn't been… because something within me changed, looking into her eyes. Now, she was everything. I would absolutely do anything for this beautiful little being. "Oh, Ayla…" I said, in a hushed, desperate whisper, tears falling beyond my control, fast and silent, no doubt leaving streaks across my sweaty face.

Dr. Blake told me she'd had perfect scores… she was 20 inches long, 7.3 pounds… and then left to give us a moment.

Gil and Jace were at my sides, looking into her face, and I knew they were eager to hold her. I hesitated, glancing between them, once against worrying about the delicate balance—Gil solved my problem. "…Let her Dad hold her first." He said, and though I detected the pain at the admission in his voice, it was well-hidden. I kissed her brow and passed her to Jace and turned to Gil—I couldn't help it, I kissed him desperately. "…I can't believe it." I shook my head.

He beamed. "You were amazing, honey…"

Gil got to hold her next, and though my interaction with Jace while Gil cooed to the tiny infant was different, it was just as heartfelt.

"…She's so beautiful." He said, after passing her to Gil with frown on his face. I sighed softly, exhausted and surprisingly, hungry.

"She is. …Does anyone in your family have blue eyes?"

He chuckled, tucking a strand of sweaty hair over my ear. "No, but genes are funny like that. …Besides, they can change color up to a year, can't they?"

"Mmm," I said, uncertain. I didn't want them to change—rationally, I knew that there wasn't any of Gil in her, but I liked the idea that some of her would look like him.

"…What should her middle name be? Ayla what?"

Gil sat down beside me, passing her back, and I sighed in happiness—the brief moments of separation had felt like an eternity after having her inside me for so long. I pressed her close to me. Gil didn't give input, as he had picked her first name, though Jace didn't know that. Jace made a suggestion, although with an awkward look on his face, like he was struggling to say it in front of Gil. He took my hand, "I… I was thinking… Sara. …I know you've never liked the idea of making a child a 'junior,' but if it's just her middle name… I think she should have the name of… the only woman I've ever loved."

His voice rings with sincerity and insecurity, admitting this in front of the man I've openly admitted I now love instead of him. I swallow, biting my lip, while Gil looks away—he's in a tough position. He doesn't technically get a say, although he has been included in this as if he ought to have an equal say. He's also suggested giving her my name as her middle name, in the past, yet he doesn't want to give Jace the satisfaction or the brownie points.

I sighed. I hadn't given a single thought to her middle name other than to tell Gil that I didn't want her named after me, but all of a sudden, I knew without a doubt what I wanted it to be—but it would take some convincing of the two men beside me.

"…I want to name her after my brother."

They blinked in surprise. Gil cleared his throat. "…Ayla Brandon?" His voice gave away his uncertainty. Jace frowned—he probably hadn't remembered my brother's name.

Seeking to outdo Gil, no doubt, he spoke up—"I think it's great—we don't need to be conventional, especially since it's her middle name… it's not like she'll get teased for it. You should name her after your brother."

I turned beseeching eyes to Gil—he knew, as Jace did not, the reason my brother and I no longer spoke. He knew more than Jace why it would be so important to me… and at my gaze, he just nodded softly. "If you want it, darling."

I beamed, and Jace tried to drag my attention back to him—"Ayla Brandon Wendt. …Beautiful!"

Gil averted his eyes at the use of the last name—he had expected it, but no doubt it still hurt. I bit my bottom lip, looking down at her, trying to make light of the situation. "…You've already got men falling all over you, competing for your love, Ayla. What are we going to do with you?"

Both men smiled, but neither smile reached their eyes. It was going to be a long night.


	60. Chapter 60

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I know this chapter is less than eventful, but it's a necessary transition between the birth and the next part of the story... :) Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Sixty:

It was unbelievably difficult to keep deferring to the man. Especially because Sara was doing so as well—I could handle me calling him the 'dad' and offering to let him do things first, but I didn't want Sara trying to accommodate him as well. I wanted her to look like she didn't want him involved at all.

She didn't look like she did want him there, but she didn't seem opposed either.

I mean, okay, I know it's an ego thing and I should just get over it, but it's a hard place to be in, in love with a woman who is giving birth to another's man child.

When Sara finally got the epidural and slept for a while, there was… a bit of a conversation. We had exhausted Ayla-related topics, and the only thing left was the unfinished business between us… the animosity. He cleared his throat.

"I know you two are still speaking." He said, in a tone that implied he was baiting me. I gave him my best enigmatic expression—Sara was still under the impression that he didn't know, which meant that she hadn't told him. Either he'd figured us out, or he was bluffing… either way, I wasn't going to tell him more than he already knew.

"We're not allowed to have any contact anymore." I said, upset that my voice betrayed my bitterness.

He scoffed. "I'm not an idiot, Gil. …The thing you have to realize is that the psyche of a woman changes, once she gives birth… the whole world becomes about supporting and protecting the baby. That's why women are attracted to older men who are well established… they can best take care of offspring. It's biological."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm older than you, and can certainly support her, so I'm not really worried about it."

He smiled, though it was false. "You're right—you are older. But for you, that's both an upside and a downside… you're in your forties, I'm in my thirties… Sara turns thirty this year. We're both older, and can support her, but which of us is young and attractive and virile?"

I wasn't about to be goaded, despite my insecurities. "And which of us was between her legs last night?"

Pain streaked across his gaze, and though I felt like I ought to feel guilty, I didn't. I would be deferential because I wanted this to be a calm and low stress situation for Sara, but I wasn't going to let him imply that Sara wanted him. I had seen them interact in front of me, and she didn't treat him the way she used to… I knew, without asking either of them, that she had been faithful to me since we'd parted.

"But I am Ayla's father… Once she has her… her instinct is going to be to keep the family together. Especially since you work such a high risk job… I'm less of a risk."

"She loves me."

"Yeah, she told me that too."

I looked away from him, waiting for Sara to wake and the pretense that we were getting along to continue. She seemed to be a little bit nicer when she yelled at me, as opposed to when she yelled at Jace—and before I knew it, Ayla was crowning. Sara wouldn't let either of us see it—I understood why shouldn't would keep Jace away, but I wanted to see it so badly… see the moment that the baby Sara had created within herself came into the world to be her own little person. I stayed with Sara and held her hand while Jace cut the cord and relished in the kiss she gave me while Jace held Ayla.

When I finally got a chance to hold the small infant, Jace reluctantly passing me her small form over the top of Sara, I took the time to be certain that Sara was not about to bestow a kiss on Jace and then looked into the little girl's bright blue eyes, thinking that she already looked like Sara… the shape of her face, her cheekbones… the slight crease in her nose and the curls in her dark locks. I know they say babies that young can't smile yet, but I swear her lips twitched up a little, when she looked at me.

"Hi Ayla… I know you've already your mommy and… daddy…" I stumbled over the word and swallowed, focusing on the sweet button of her nose and the red in her cheeks to keep me going. "But I wanted to make sure you knew me, because I won't be around as much. …I'm Gil, but… you can call me daddy too, if you like. …'Cause I love your mommy so much, little Ayla, and I love you so much too and… and I'm gonna do my best to be around as often as I can." I laid a trembling kiss to her forehead. "…Someday, you'll understand, honey. Just… do me a favor and don't forget me, okay? …Or how much I love you, sweetheart."

We were both kicked out for a while when a woman came in to help Sara start to breastfeed, and headed down to the cafeteria, ending up eating at the same table simply out of habit or social convention or I don't know what, despite the fact that we hated each other. When we came back up, Ayla was sucking happily away, Sara's eyes shining in disbelief. I grinned, hurrying in and taking my normal seat—"Look at you, mommy… What's it feel like?"

She laughed a little, blinking back the tears. "Weird. …But good. It's a good weird." She leaned over and kissed me softly. "…Thank you for being here, Gil." My ego flared up—I wanted to turn and yell 'Ha!' in Jace's face, but I refrained, instead turning and stroking Ayla's head where we was curled up against Sara's partially exposed breast, knowing that he would be allowed to do no such thing and letting that satisfy me.

There was something strangely primal that flared in me, watching Sara mothering, an infant to her breast, her face lined and weary but shining with happiness. Something had to be done about this arrangement soon—I couldn't go back to not seeing her long term. Especially since her abstinence was going to prevent another shared birthing experience from bringing me back to Boston. …If I couldn't beat Jace at his own game—the PI had continually reported nothing, so I'd given up—I would have to find another way.

The rest of the trip seemed like a blur—Sara was stuck in the hospital that night and the entire next day. When Jace would leave to eat, I would have time with her and Ayla, and when I left to eat, I was certain he jumped at the chance—my only consolation was that when he returned, she'd frown and stop speaking, not wanting to be overheard, and when I returned, she turn away from him, even if he was speaking, to meet my eyes, her face lit up.

She slept a lot, and she was almost always holding Ayla when she was awake, though she often passed her to me, sensing that Jace monopolized the infant while Sara slept in an effort to keep me from her. Despite his efforts, she fell asleep in my arms several times that day, and did no such thing for Jace. And with Sara, it seemed like she was always hungry—Ayla would eat and eat, and finally pass out, still attached to her breast, one tiny fit curled up against Sara's chest.

I realized with some surprise that the ring was exposed when she was nursing—it hadn't occurred to me, at first, and apparently hadn't to Sara either. I wondered if Jace had noticed, and mentioned it to Sara the next time Jace was out of the room. She moved the necklace so that it fell down her back, hoping that would help… hoping he hadn't seen it. She was worried she would lose it or that he would do something to it, and offered to give it back, but I refused. I would prefer she have it and lose it than not have it at all.

And that night, I had to kiss her and my Ayla goodbye and catch a cab to the airport to make my flight home, playing by Jace's goddamned rules and missing out on all the moments… I threw myself into work when I got home, needing the distraction, and on my down time, I tried to figure out how to get Sara and Ayla out of this situation and into my life, for real. I couldn't do this long distance anymore, especially not with Jace's words ringing in my ears.

* * *

She looked just like Sara.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on.

And despite Gil backing off and letting me do the things I had every right to, he was still constantly there, murmuring words of love or touching Ayla or touching Sara.

The way Sara looked at Ayla… the way she looked at me, when Gil was out of the room and we were looking at the tiny person we had made together… I knew. I knew that if he were out of the picture, Sara would turn back to me—her husband, a pillar of stability, who had stood by her even when she was ready to throw the marriage away on someone so unworthy of her. She would be grateful that she had a family to turn to and rely on. I just needed him to stop kicking up mud to make the water murky—when he wasn't around, everything was clear, and she knew that she needed and wanted me.

I had been uncertain, before, how to make them stop talking… and I was reluctant to go too far, because Sara had a temper… if she discovered what I was doing, despite the fact that she'd been breaking rules, she would still never forgive me. So I had to be tactful. But now… we were talking, getting along, sharing the responsibilities of Ayla, and she was looking at me with awe in her eyes. I couldn't wait for him to screw up or get tired of the distance—and he eventually would—because the time was now. I would have to find a way to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak… She was emotional and vulnerable, and if he hurt her now as opposed to when he would eventually hurt her of his own accord later, she would be more likely to turn back to me. Especially because Ayla deserved a real family—Sara knew it as well as I did, but she was caught up in a man she'd never had a real relationship with.

I mean, time actually spent in his presence was… what? Less than three weeks.

No, the breakdown of their relationship was eventual… but my opportunity for restoring mine was present and pressing. I wasn't sure how, but I would do everything I could to influence her away from him, while our family might still be salvaged. Ayla deserved that… More than either of us, she deserved the happiness only a complete, whole family could bring.

I rocked her to sleep after he had gone and Sara had drifted off, taking in how very much she looked like Sara… telling her about our home and the nursery and the life I was going to give her, about meeting Grandma and Grandpa and her aunts and cousins…and the next day, I was the picture-perfect husband. I was affectionate and doting, understanding and sweet… I helped her with bags and with Ayla, I helped her walk from door to car and car to door and guided her to bed. I brought her Ayla when she asked and stayed close, tending to all of her needs.

And she was grateful… she really was. I could see it in her eyes. …But it wasn't enough. She needed something to take him out of her mind, so she could truly see and appreciate what was in front of her. …And I needed to figure out a way to accomplish that.


	61. Chapter 61

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, this is a little fluff, and a little reality, because I think this particular long distance relationship would be more than difficult. :) Also, it's building up to some angst. The next chapter will be a little angsty, but never fear, it sets us on the path for the final happy ending. I've said this before, but let me reassure you guys again--I only do GSR happy endings. Please stick with me!

* * *

Chapter Sixty One:

I missed Gil every day, but it was hard to be sad when I had someone so wonderful monopolizing my time—it seemed like every day I learned something new about Ayla. She liked to hold Gil's grandmother's wedding ring while she nursed, and even though she couldn't quite smile, I swear her eyes lit up when she saw me. She always burped better if I leaned her forward against one palm and patted her back that way, instead of against my shoulder. She rarely cried, and I was amazing that I really could tell by her cry what she wanted… if she was hungry or needed a change or was getting sleepy, or just needed more time cuddling.

I had intended to keep her crib in the nursery, so that there was no reason for Jace to ever come into my room… but I broke down after the first night, partly out of exhaustion—I was so very tired and the trek to the nursery to feed her every four hours had taken its toll—and partly out of fear—Even when she was asleep, I couldn't fall deeply asleep… I was so afraid something would happen to her.

There was a section of the crib that was detachable—a bassinet that fit in the larger crib, but could also be set on a bed or hooked to the side of one. So I started having her sleep in my room—it was just easier. I slept better, she woke up to eat and I didn't even have to climb out of bed. Only if she needed a change would I have to get up and move her around, and I was quite sore after labor… the less time I had to move, the better.

Jace insisted on helping, and though it was strange at first, having him in my room in the middle of the night in only his boxers, watching me breastfeed our daughter and then taking her while I tucked myself back in my gown to change her so I wouldn't have to. I would sit up in bed, anxious at his presence, until he passed her back to me or sat on the end of the bed to rock her back to sleep himself.

I tried to talk to Gil every night—we didn't even bother calling through Michelle and Kyleigh anymore, and Jace said nothing. I wasn't sure if this meant that he wasn't checking any information or he just wasn't saying anything either way… because, really, what was he going to do? Take away my cell phone? Not allow me to leave the house? He'd have to go to work sometime, and we both knew that no court would give Ayla to a man that controlling.

The problem was predicting when he would call, so I could be awake for it. Now that Ayla was in my room and we were on a sleeping schedule, I slept heavily… I still woke easily to her cries, but anything else was lost on me as I caught my sleep in interrupted increments. He tried to call at seven every day, but if he got called in early, it might be earlier or later… or much later, if he were out in the field and had planned to step away from a scene for a few minutes and ended up not having service. There were some nights where he would be off schedule and I would miss his calls altogether.

The good thing was that he worked nights—when I would get up with Ayla, if I'd missed him, I could call at any hour… but I couldn't always expect him to answer. If he was at a scene out in the desert and therefore out of the service area or in an interrogation or completing a time-sensitive test or following a big lead or processing a particularly delicate case… He'd call me back when he could, but usually I'd be asleep again.

It put a strain on our relationship—we snapped at each other more, frustrated at missing each other. I would tell him things about Ayla, and sometimes it made him happy while other times it seemed to only upset him, because he wasn't there to see it. He was on edge, and it only got worse when I mentioned Jace… and I only mentioned him in passing, when telling a story about Ayla, but that seemed to be enough to set him off.

I tried to be patient—I knew that he was under a lot of stress and was missing me as much as I missed him. He didn't have Ayla with him to help take his mind off the distance. But the fact of the matter was that I couldn't always be understanding—I could tell the hormones in my body were still attempting to right themselves after my pregnancy because, besides being constantly tired, I would cry at the smallest things. We were out of milk the other morning, which I only discovered after pouring cereal into my bowl… I slumped to the floor and dissolved into tears from it.

Jace was worried that it was something serious—post partum depression or at the very least, baby blues… but I wasn't so sure. Wasn't it normal to be a little emotional and very tired? I didn't feel like I didn't want Ayla and I wouldn't characterize myself as depressed… just inclined to violent mood swings. The literature I found online was vague—it sounded like it could be something or nothing. I tried to bring it up to Gil, thinking that if he agreed with Jace I'd go in and ask my doctor about it, but if he disagreed, I'd wait and see if things got better.

He snapped at me when I started my sentence with, "…So Jace thinks that I—"

"Do you _ever_ stop talking about him?!"

I grit my teeth, restraining myself, reminding myself that he was in a difficult position.

"…Gil, honey, I… I don't really talk about him. I was just… looking for an opinion. …I know you're upset about the situation we're in and I don't blame you for that for a minute, but… Is something else wrong?"

He sighed, heavily. "No… I just… some things that Jace said to me, when I was in Boston."

I frowned. "What did he say?!"

"…Nothing, Sara. He… We were both baiting each other. It's nothing I shouldn't have expected. I'm sorry, honey."

"…Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"…I showed Ayla a picture of you, from the cruise, today. …I swear she recognized you—her eyes lit up the way they always do when she sees me. …Do you think she remembers you?"

"I hope so." He sighed again, muttering under his breath before speaking more clearly into the phone, "…Sara, honey, I gotta go."

"You just get paged?"

"Yep… Two bodies found in a car on the side of a dirt road, way out in the desert… suspicious circs. The windows were open, so the car is full of insects…"

I sighed this time. "…Okay. I love you."

"I love you too, honey. …Tell Ayla that I love her too."

"I tell her every night before bed."

I could hear the smile in his voice, and hoped that it helped with whatever had been bothering him. "I'm glad. Goodnight, Sara."

"Goodnight, Gil."

It was like this for the first few months of Ayla's life… we tried so hard to talk daily and I tried to keep him updated on the things in her life—the first real smiles, especially the ones that broke out across her face when she saw me, the first hints at laughter, and her attempts at rolling over. He rejoiced and despaired in equal measure, and I tried so hard to be understanding and patient, but on more than one occasion we hung up the phone angry—later that night, often times in the middle of the night, one of us would call the other to apologize for the lost tempers and the harsh words, but it didn't necessarily change how we'd behave the next time around.

On his nights off, I'd wait until I was sure Jace was asleep, move a sleeping Ayla back to her bedroom as she could now be relied upon to sleep at least five hours for one portion of the night, and call Gil. The first time we did this, we were just excited to be able to talk for an extended period of time… and though he was concerned about keeping me up, I promised him that I'd let Jace take Ayla the next day so I could catch up—he rarely got a night off in which he wasn't called in, and I didn't want to waste it. We started out just talking, but of course, one thing always leads to another…

I sighed. "I miss you so much…"

"I miss you too. I wish I was there with you…"

"Me too."

There's a brief pause, and then, "…I actually counted off the six weeks, after Ayla was born… before I let myself… imagine you… again. I… thought that was only fair."

I smiled—after his admissions about the fantasies surrounding my baby bump (I won't even go into the positions he had imagined to take stress off of me and Ayla…), I should have expected as much. "I was thinking about you right away… though I couldn't do anything about it. It's only just stopped hurting this week…"

"…So, if I were there… you wouldn't be in pain."

I let my eyes close. "If you were here, I think I would be in the throes of… the opposite of pain."

I could hear the grin in his voice. "Yes, you would." His deep tone sent shivers through me, and I couldn't help but encourage him, just a little…

"Oh? And how would you be accomplishing that?"

There was a brief pause, and he swallowed. "…I've never had phone sex before."

I felt myself blushing. "…I'm sorry, Gil. I… I didn't mean to push. I just thought that was where this was going and… I can't tell you how frustrated I am. I think that's the hormones—I felt this way during the pregnancy too. It's like I'm insatiable… and with you so far away…I'm sorry."

"No! …Don't be sorry. I, uh… I wasn't saying it as a…complaint. I… I'm not so sure I'll be very good at it."

"Honey, at this point, I could probably come just listening to you describe your bugs in that deep voice… You have _no_ idea."

"…What are you wearing?" I was wearing a nursing gown, but that didn't seem very appropriate to me. I hesitated, and he chuckled. "You don't have to be in something sexy… I always find you more desirable than any other woman in the world…"

I swallowed. "A purple nursing gown… my breasts leak while I sleep, so it's nice to have the absorbent padding without wearing a bra to bed…"

"…The point of those is to offer easy access, isn't it?" I blushed again, feeling tingles straight down to my toes.

"It is…"

He sighed softly, "Oh, Sara, I miss you so much… I can't decide what I would want to do first. …No, that's not true. I'd want to kiss you. Our kisses have always been…"

"Explosive." I provided.

"…but after that, I think I'd just want to start by running my hands over your body, through the soft fabric, just to know what you feel like now…"

"I have all this deflated tummy fat…"

"Sara, your body is and always will be beautiful. …I would start on your stomach, laying soft kisses up between your breasts as I pulled the gown over your head…"

I swallowed hard. "I would already be arching up into you, that's how badly I want you…"

I would press my body to yours and—"

"Wait. What are you wearing…?"

"…Nothing."

My eyes rolled back in my head and I had to stifle a moan. He chuckled. "So when I pressed against you, honey, you would feel every inch of my skin… our chests pressed together, our hips locked, the feel of me pressing between your thighs…"

I moaned again. "Oh, I wouldn't be able to take that. …I'd reach down and guide you inside me."

"No, I'd stop you… the first time we make love after Ayla needs to be soft and slow… with lots of build up."

I laughed and whined together. "You really don't understand—I'm built up."

"A little extra effort never hurt anybody…"

Ayla started crying right then, and I groaned out loud. "Hold that thought, I have to go grab Ayla." I had set the phone down and rushed to her, soothing her gently while I walked back to my room and leaned against the headboard, letting her attach herself to my breast before picking the phone back up. "Okay…"

He sighed. "…We're done here, aren't we…?"

I laughed, "For a little while… and _you_ said there was no harm in taking it slow…"

"I was wrong."

It had continued like that—he took off more days, knowing he'd still be called in on most of them, but hoping that we would get the chance more often than normal. And most of the time, Ayla would sleep long enough for both of us to finish in an explosion of whispered moans and devotions. But there were still times when we'd go weeks without… and then Gil would start snapping again, and I would have to grit my teeth against my temper again, reminding myself how hard this was for him, especially being aware that Jace often came to help with Ayla at night, now that I was getting closer to full nights of sleep…

I didn't know how we were going to keep this up much longer as the stress of our relationship was really rather draining… but I'd meant it when I said I loved him. I loved him like I had never loved anyone else. Stressful and difficult though it may be, until something changed, it was what we'd have to do.


	62. Chapter 62

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Okay, so this chapter will make most of you pretty angry. Just be aware that it's setting us up for the final events in the story, where Grissom comes back to his family for good. I promise a happy ending. :) Think of the stress both parties are under--Grissom is across the country without the woman he loves or the infant he views as his own and they're both living with another man, whom he hates. Sara is working full time, taking care of Ayla, living in what is more or less a prison, away from the man she loves, and she's crazy with hormones and exhaustion. Under those conditions, any couple has problems, right?

...Oh yeah, and if you guys thought you hated Jace before... :P

To Edge--fair warning, if you wanted to wait to read until the happy stuff comes, this isn't it. :)

Enjoy! (Or, you know, don't.)

* * *

Chapter Sixty Two:

It had been a horrible day. Before I came into the office the night before, I'd called Sara at seven. If I knew Jace, and I was certain that I knew his manipulative side better than Sara, he had discovered that seven was our regular time to talk, assuming nothing came up, because several times he would interrupt to talk to her—it was minute, in truth, but it got under my skin like nothing else.

He had everything else—couldn't I just have this time, uninterrupted?

"Hello?"

"Hi." I greeted her, hearing Ayla cry in the background. "…Trouble?"

"I think she's gassy… I bet her tummy hurts." Her voice changed slightly, turning softer, as she addressed Ayla. "Oh sweetheart, Momma's trying… let's get you some gas drops and pat your back some more, okay?"

I beamed. "You're so sweet when you talk to her."

She gave me a shy laugh. "I can't help it, I guess—Oh no!"

"What's wrong?"

"She's all out of drops… Okay, honey, come here, we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way…" I could hear a soft, gentle thumping and pictured her in her room, leaning against her headboard, her head tilted to hold the phone on her right ear, Ayla resting on her left while she patted her back."

"…You're sure that's all it is? Maybe she's hungry…"

"She just ate but… I guess it couldn't hurt to tr—" I recognized the sound that followed her abrupt stop. She had pushed the phone under the covers, probably because Jace had tapped on the door and opened it without waiting for the customary 'Come in!' I wanted to be bitter that Sara allowed this, but I had been privy to her yelling at him about it in the past. He still did it, but it wasn't for lack of trying on Sara's part.

"Hey… I just heard Ayla being fussy. I thought maybe you'd laid her down for a nap and fallen asleep…"

"No… I'm up and fine. I think she just needs some gas drops."

"I'll get them for you… are they in here?"

"We're all out."

"Oh. …Well I'll run to the store for some. We don't want our little girl uncomfortable, do we?"

"…Really?" I hated how happily surprised she sounded. Was it really doing that much, offering to go to the store? If I had declared that I was going to fly from Vegas, pick some up at the store, and then climb a rope or a trellis or something, up to her window to give it to her… now that would be impressive. That would be worth a happy and surprised 'really'. Ugh.

"Of course, Sara. …Anything for my girls!" I heard the sound of his lips smacking, and in my mind's eye, Sara had Ayla cradled… which meant that Jace kissing Ayla anywhere but the hand would probably be like pressing his face up to her amazingly sweet and supple breasts. I cringed. "I'm going right now."

"Thanks—make sure you get the right brand…"

The domesticity of the moment was not lost on me—whether they were intimate or not, they were clearly back to functioning as a married couple again, in a few respects.

"Sorry, honey, he came in really fast… He's gonna run out and grab Ayla some gas drops."

"I heard." I said, in irritation. Her response came somewhat surprised.

"…Oh. Okay. …Tell me about work. What case are you working on?"

We were working a case where a man killed his pregnant wife when he discovered she was cheating on him—it had been part of the reason for my bad mood, because it made me fearful of all those months Sara and I hadn't talked nearly as often as now. …It made me fearful of how she was living right now, because now that Jace knew Ayla, he knew how much he stood to lose in letting Sara go.

"It's not important."

I could see her slight frown through the phone. "…Oh. …Is something wrong, Gil?"

I opened my mouth, meaning to say 'No, I'm just under a lot of stress, thanks for worrying, my love.' What came out was something else entirely.

"You know what? Yes. Yes, something is wrong. Why is he constantly in and out of your room?"

The long pause told me I'd once again surprised her with the vehemence of my words. I felt guilty, but I also felt justified. Jace had everything, and I sat across the country, alone, letting him enjoy the life that was supposed to be mine, and I was just supposed to be okay with it. "…Ayla's always with me. He… he comes in to see her or… to help."

"Tell him he can't."

"…You want me to tell him he can't see her? Or you want me to work full time _and_ be the one to get up with her all night?"

_Yes_, I wanted her to tell him he couldn't see her. "No. I just… she's getting older, Sara. Maybe she could sleep in her own room."

She scoffed. "You know what—I'm not doing this with you. I'm not going to scream at you in front of Ayla, and I know that if I exert control over my volume and tone of voice, I will have nothing left to censor myself… I'll say something I'll regret. So I'm hanging up now. I love you."

And she did hang up. I slammed my phone to the table, cursing loudly, and kicked the table, which did nothing to the table, but sent throbbing pain through my foot. I swore again, pissed as all fucking hell, and grabbed my things, thinking that if I could bury myself in a case, I could forget about this anger for a while.

The problem was the specific case I was working… No, actually, the problem was the whole fucking night. Greg, in an attempt to prevent me drinking _his_ pot of coffee, crashed into me and spilled the entire pot all over the two of us. Lucky for us, the burner had been turned off, and the burns were minor—my hand hands and chest were red and blotchy, in the locker room, where I angrily disrobed and changed into fresh clothes, slamming my locker door with too much force.

Nick and Warrick were playing that god damned football game when I came into the break room, so I sent them on a decomp, earning me dirty looks from my young protégés. When Catherine walked in late, hastily explaining that Eddie had been late to pick up Lindsey and she was really sorry, I went off on her too—but she didn't take it like Nick and Warrick. She tossed her hair, squared her shoulders, planted her hands on her hips, and informed me that just because I wasn't getting any from the woman who was someone else's baby-momma (what does that mean, exactly?) didn't mean I got to throw my weight around.

I apologized, abashed, and gave her the easy smash and grab I had intended to take myself, thinking it would give me time to call Sara in a few hours when I'd calmed down and apologize, as was our custom. She snatched the sheet from me without another word, flouncing out of the room, leaving me with a 419. This didn't help my mood—feeling ashamed and admitting I was wrong always hurt my pride… so it also made my anger worse. My only hopeful thought was that it was at least a single, and if it were simple, there was every reason to believe I'd have a chance to call Sara when I was driving evidence back to the lab. Or in the morning, before she headed out for the day…

No such luck. The vic had a meth lab in his basement along with explosives… we had to call in so many other teams to clear the scene and deal with the drugs that I couldn't get back into the house until nearly 6 am. I couldn't call Sara, because the man lived on a property out in the country—we probably wouldn't have found him for months if it hadn't been for his 911 call—and there was no cell service. I could hardly use the man's land line to call Boston, and I couldn't leave the body… or transport it, because David hadn't been in to release it to me, because we weren't allowed in the house.

By the time I left the scene, there was time to heat up someone else's leftover Chinese takeout from the fridge in the staff room, pop a migraine pill—oh, yeah, it was one of those days—and catch twenty minutes on the couch in Brass' office. I checked my phone for messages, knowing that I wouldn't see if I'd missed a call because I'd been out of range of any cell towers, but there were none. This didn't necessarily mean anything—she might have simply been exhausted. She had been right when she pointed out that she was now working again and attempting to do as much of it from home as possible, because she didn't want to leave Ayla in daycare all day. She never got enough sleep… so even though I was disappointed that she hadn't called, I was glad to think she might have gotten some much needed rest.

I was still waiting on evidence from the 419, so I went to work on the case from the night before last—the pregnant woman who'd been murdered by her husband when he caught her cheating. This one was open and close, thankfully, and thinking that all I had to do was go through the motions of processing everything, I figured I could handle it. I was wrong—we'd recovered the young wife's diary from her home after the husband had been arrested. I sat down to read through it, simply to see if anyone else suspicious jumped off the page, thinking I would not be doing my job if I didn't exhaust every avenue…

I learned that even though she and her husband were sleeping in different rooms and she had promised her lover that she wouldn't sleep with him—though the husband didn't know the reason why—she had. Several times. And she had lied to her lover about it, making excuses, saying he was only in her room when the man called and heard his voice because she'd been having Braxton hicks and was worried the baby was coming early… among other things. Jace's words came back to me, making the migraine which had, at this point, been receding come back in full force.

_"But I am Ayla's father… Once she has her… her instinct is going to be to keep the family together. Especially since you work such a high risk job… I'm less of a risk."_

_"She loves me."_

_"Yeah, she told me that too."_

…Was there some other reason Jace was always in her room? …Should I be worried about the hormones making Sara ask for phone sex whenever we had the opportunity? Should I be worried that we hadn't in several weeks now? Wasn't she frustrated, or was she getting it somewhere else? …She had even told _me_ that she loved Jace, when I was first pursuing her in San Francisco. …In fact, shouldn't it worry me that she was so willing to spend time with me while she was engaged to be married? Shouldn't I find it disconcerting that we were fooling around on the cruise ship for days before she told Jace? …And had she told him, or had he simply confronted her with an ultimatum, already knowing what we'd been doing? I wondered what would happen if I called using a number she wouldn't recognize.

And suddenly, I also realized that I had to hear her voice this minute or I was absolutely going to lose my mind. I went into the locker room and pulled a cell phone out of Catherine's locker—I knew it had a Montana number, because her mother had left it here the previous weekend when she'd visited… Catherine was going to mail it back to her after shift.

I dialed Sara's cell number, glancing at the clock—it was 1:15. Not one of Ayla's usual feeding times. Even though we'd missed our seven o'clock phone call, chances were Sara was asleep and she wouldn't ans—"Hello?"

My heart plummeted into my stomach. It was Jace's voice, on Sara's cell phone, and he sounded like he had been asleep. I forced myself to speak, hoping that he was tired enough to not recognize my voice. "…I'm looking for Sara, please?"

He gave a sleepy grunt and inhaled. I strained my ear for clues—a bed creaking, a gentle rustling of him shaking her awake. "Sara…"

"Mmm?" She answered, clearly still mostly asleep.

The rustling came again. "…The phone's for you, honey. …Wake up."

"Oh." She said sleepily, and the bed creaked again, as if she were rolling over. I heard the phone pass hands, but her next words were far away, still directed at him. "…Ayla? Where is she?"

"Right here, Sara. Calm down, we didn't roll over her, everything's fine."

She seemed more awake now as she finally put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

I opened my mouth to speak… to ask for an explanation… to scream at her, to cry, to lament the betrayal. And then I let it close—I didn't need any of that. I didn't need her. I closed the phone, turned it off, and replaced it in Catherine's locker.


	63. Chapter 63

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Aw, I love my reviewers. Especially how interactive you are.

I like GSR'er's idea of coming up with as many ways to kill him as possible. :) I think each review should end with the way the reader would like to see him meet an untimely and extremely conveinant demise. Just sayin'.

Jelly--Am I allowed to join the SJ, GSTG campaign, or no, because I control the characters? If I don't have him do that, am I being unfaithful to the campaign?

CsiKathy--the term 'tool-prints' is my new favorite phrase. Just so you know, it made me laugh for like ten minutes.

GSRmania--I missed you. :) Your reviews make me so happy. Your poor husband--tell him once again that I'm sorry.

Anyway, this is Sara's side of the story. Let me know what you guys think. I'm trying to write as fast as I can before I have to be out of town for over a week, but it's also finals week so I'm juggling a lot. :)

* * *

Chapter Sixty Three:

When Jace returned with Ayla's gas drops, I gave them to her and soothed her until it seemed like they were helping… and then I laid her on her back, on a blanket on the floor, and went out to find the man who had just caused a fight between Gil and I. The man who wouldn't let me leave.

"What exactly are you playing at?"

He looked up at me in surprise from the stack of papers he'd brought home from work. "…Excuse me?"

"How many times have I said you need to knock and wait before coming in my room?"

He looked bewildered. "I… several. But when you're asleep, I don't want to wake you up by knocking continuously. …Sara, I'm worried about you. You don't get enough sleep and it's starting to affect you… you're so emotional."

"Stop it. Stop blaming things on my hormones! I'm emotional because I'm a prisoner in this marriage, stuck across the country from the man I love and want to be with."

"…You can leave whenever you like, Sara."

Tears pressed against my eyes. "But I should just be aware that you're not giving her up without a fight?"

He nodded, succinctly. "That's right."

"…You're such an asshole!"

"…I'll wait for you to tell me to come in, from now on."

"That doesn't fix this."

He sighed. "No… I know that. But you don't want to fix it, you want to run away from it. …Since we want different things, until you decide acting on your wants is worth the risk involved, we'll simply have to agree to disagree. And in the mean time, I will be more respectful of your privacy."

"Ugh!" I screamed at him in frustration, turning to go back to Ayla.

I couldn't sleep that night—I called him over and over, and tried to leave a message several times… but I kept misspeaking. I can't tell you how many times I hit 'one' to listen to my message and then 'one' again to delete and re-record. In the end, I decided that I couldn't correctly convey myself through a message—it was throwing me off. I was rambling and over talking, which I always did when Gil made me nervous, and it was not nearly as endearing in a message he would listen to while mad at me than it might be when we were actually connected. I didn't sleep—I gave up calling around 8 am, 5 am his time, deciding I couldn't wait any longer to shower and get ready for work and get Ayla ready for daycare.

It was a long, long day. I was short with my students in class and I forced myself to stop grading essays, because I realized that I had just given a student who had never turned in less than an A paper a C. I decided I would need to relook at them when Gil and I weren't fighting anymore. I mean, usually he would have called the night before to apologize, or at least apologized when I did. But, the fact that I kept getting sent to voicemail told me he was either deliberately ignoring my calls or somewhere that didn't have cell service. He could have gotten a bad case or something…

I forced myself to not get worked up… not worry that he was ignoring me. He always called at seven his time, ten mine. And after last night, even if something came up, I knew he'd make an effort to call at some point. Despite being exhausted, I didn't let myself sleep for fear I'd miss his call as I had so many times before—I didn't want some misunderstanding to tear us apart. This was too important for that.

He didn't call. I dialed his number several times, but ended up hanging up before pressing send each time. I was nervous that he hadn't called because he was still mad, and I didn't think I could take him yelling at me. Jace wasn't lying when he'd accused me of being emotional, though I hated him using that… because my concerns were valid, no matter how emotional I was, and it minimized it. It implied that I was just this hysterical little woman who ought to be disregarded because she was too emotional to think straight.

But I _was_ emotional—I cried almost every day, and sometimes over the stupidest things. I was restless and irritable, even when Gil and I weren't fighting, and my mood swings were severe. Sometimes I felt like I was forcing myself to eat because Ayla needed my milk, and other times I ate like I hadn't eaten in days. Sometimes I couldn't sleep at all, but most of the time I was exhausted… it seemed like no matter how much I slept, I never felt rested. It had been months since I'd given birth, so it was too long to just call it a simple case of the baby blues.

And I felt constantly desperate for comfort… which is why I was constantly trying to initiate phone sex. I mean, I missed him and sometimes I really wanted it… but more often than not, I just craved hearing him describe us together, because he put images in my head of intimacy and closeness that I couldn't conjure up myself—they were so detailed and beautiful and sentimental. I felt safe when he described what it would feel like to be inside me and to love me gently. The worship in his voice reassured me that he loved me and that the sacrifice he was making wasn't going to make him run away from me, and I tried with everything in me to give that much comfort back to him.

I hadn't asked him what he thought about Post-Partum Depression since that day I'd tried to and he'd snapped at me for bringing up Jace, even though it'd been unintentional. I knew it wasn't rational, but I associated the subject with his disapproval and anger, and it made me ashamed that I was worrying in this way. I'd just carried a baby for nine months—of course I was hormonal. Women had dealt with this for thousands of years before me just fine. …I felt like I would be a failure as a mother in his eyes. I couldn't handle that—his opinion of my ability to mother was the only one that mattered. I was afraid to bring it up, and afraid to go talk to my doctor about it without telling him first… getting his opinion and support.

But he didn't call, and I couldn't bring myself to call him and have him yell at me about calling while I knew he was working because he was still mad from our argument. I stayed up as late as I could, but like I said, I was constantly exhausted. I didn't know how I'd managed to stay up the previous night, but tonight was impossible. I woke up around 3:30 when Ayla was hungry and tucked her against my body, leaning back against the headboard and letting my eyes close while she suckled—my eyes snapped open when there was a knock on the door.

I sighed, checking to make sure my breast was only minimally exposed. "Come in."

Jace was there in his usual sleeping attire, just boxers, looking a little sheepish. "I know you haven't been sleeping well… once she's done eating, I'll take her… change her and get her back to sleep."

I wanted to snap at him, wanted to stay mad at him, but the truth was that I was overwhelmingly exhausted, and his words sounded like the best idea anyone had ever had. Like clockwork, she released me and I passed her to him, tucking myself back into my gown and rolling over. "…She needs to be burped." I murmured, already sliding into sleep, aware that he had taken a seat on the other side of my bed to burp her. But he would have to get up to change her.

I let my eyes fall closed in relief, my last thought being that I hoped I would wake up if Gil called me. …I hoped Gil would call me.

The next thing I knew, Jace was shaking me awake. My eyes flickered open to take in the clock—4:15 am. "The phone's for you, honey. …Wake up."

"Oh," I said stupidly, remembering that he had woke me for a reason—I reached for the phone, and then realized—it had been more than a half hour since I had fallen asleep, and Jace was still beside me. …He sounded like he'd been asleep. Oh god, Ayla! "…Ayla?! Where is she?" I panicked.

"Right here, Sara. Calm down, we didn't roll over her, everything's fine." He still had her cradled in his arms—and he was propped up a little. Had he fallen asleep putting her to sleep, leaning up against the headboard?

I realized I was still holding a phone. "Hello?"

There was a long pause—and then the line went dead. …I looked at the number, but I didn't recognize it. It wasn't a Vegas number but… who else would call me in the middle of the night? I called it back, but I was sent to a voicemail inbox of someone named Lily Flynn. I frowned and hung up, calling Gil's number instead.

Jace frowned at me. "What are you doing?"

I was so tired of the games, I didn't even try to hide it. "I'm calling Gil. That was probably him… we were fighting. I need to talk to him." It was ringing this time—his phone was on and he had reception. At which point it hit me—Jace had answered my phone. What had he said? Had it been obvious that he was right beside me, in bed, at four in the morning?

I had to explain… had to tell him that I had never expected him to stay longer than ten minutes, but I'd just been so exhausted and so upset over our fight that I'd let him take Ayla and gone right to sleep. I had to make him listen… apologize… beg him to believe me and not to give up on me—I knew how hard this was for him and I knew that I wasn't really worth his love, but I needed it like I needed oxygen… Ayla was the only other thing in my life that had ever even come close to how I felt about him. They were everything.

It went to voicemail, and this time I did leave a message, uncaring that Jace was still beside me, watching me with empty eyes. "Gil… It's Sara. Honey, I know you just called, and I want to explain what happened. I swear on Ayla's life that I didn't know he was in here anymore. He offered to change her and put her back to sleep and then I thought he'd leave. I was just so exhausted, baby, and I didn't sleep all last night, trying to get ahold of you… I wanted to apologize for being abrupt. Gil, you were right about everything. I'm so sorry! …Please, please don't give up on me. I love you. I love you more than anything." I paused, feeling the tears streaming down my face again. "…You're my whole world. I would never betray you. …You have to believe me." I hung up, burying my face in my hands.

When Jace shifted on the bed, getting up to lay Ayla in her crib, I remembered that he was there. I wiped my eyes and leveled a glare at him. "I hate you! …I hate more than I can possibly say! Why are you doing this to me?! If you ever loved me, Jace… if you still love me, as you claim, let me go! Let me be happy! …I'm falling apart, living like this!"

His eyes were soft, but his mouth was hard. "…Then stop living like this. Stop trying to tear yourself between two lives—you've already made the choice that you're not going to give up Ayla for Gil, and you know I'm not going to give her up either. If you know that you will always pick her over him… then stop trying to have your cake and eat it too. Commit to this family."

"This isn't a family! This is a prison and I fucking hate you!"

Ayla woke up to my screaming, and Jace clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Look what you're doing, Sara. Control yourself." He bent to pick her up, but I was already over to them, pushing him roughly out of the way and picking her up myself. When I spoke, I was no longer yelling, but my voice conveyed the same anger… I felt it running through me like an electrical current.

"…Don't you dare touch her. Stay away from my child. …You want to play games and give ultimatums? Here's mine: If you let me go, you get Ayla on holidays and in the summer… if you don't, you'll live in the same house with both of us, but you will get any time with her… or me." I leveled a glare at him. "Now get the fuck out of my room and away from my daughter, or I'm calling the police and accusing you of marital rape."

"Jesus Christ, Sara, are you fucking crazy?!" I picked up the cell phone I had just dropped and dialed 911, my thumb poised over the send button. "…You're a CSI, you know you can't prove that."

"No—it'll be my word against yours. But if I ask for a divorce, we'll go to court for that before the criminal trial… in which case, the fact that you allegedly raped me is admissible in court."

"Sara—"

I hit send, and he turned and stomped out of the room, slamming my bedroom door in the process. Ayla shuddered, but when I gently bounced her and hummed, she calmed and didn't cry again. "911, what is your emergency?"

"Could you transfer me to the police station please? …Thank you." Once the phone started ringing and I knew I wasn't about to get in trouble for falsely calling 911, I hung up the phone, tossing it back onto my bed, before settling back against my headboard with Ayla again. I ran my fingertips over the phone, wondering if it was too soon to call him again… wondering if he would ever forgive me for what he believed I'd done to him.


	64. Chapter 64

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. I'm posting this quickly before work because I have finals all through the middle of the day, so if I don't do it now, you guys would have to wait until tonight. :) Fanfiction was being mean last night.

Edge--this is the 'big event' btw. :)

Edit: I swore I put a line between the two perspectives. But apparently not. Sorry if that was confusing. :(

* * *

Chapter Sixty Four:

I convinced myself that I was just fine.

It was the first time in my life I had allowed myself to be truly vulnerable… to let myself risk everything to be with someone. And while I knew that had our interactions occurred in different circumstances, I might not have made the same choices… the fact of the matter was that I had. I had gone out on a limb, I had trusted her without the ability to check the evidence and be certain she wasn't playing me for a fool… I had loved her.

So really, it was my pride hurting. Gruesome Grissom reduced a heartsick fool by a thin little woman he'd only spent a few weeks in person with.

She wouldn't stop calling. First it was just my cell and home phones… I changed my home number, and resorted to ignoring her calls and deleting her messages. The emails came next, but when a day or so passed and I hadn't responded, she stopped.—I hadn't even read them. They were promptly deleted. I wasn't going to let her drag me back into a situation that most men would not have endured even if she had been faithful… and I knew she had the ability to drag me back. No other woman had made me act so completely idiotically. It was better not to give myself the opportunity to be swayed.

Then she called Catherine, at the lab. I worried that Catherine would take her side… but my worry was unfounded. Although Catherine had turned a blind eye to Sara's infidelity when it came to me, she was a woman who'd been burned—she didn't care about Jace, but seeing it happen to me was another story… The first time Sara called, Catherine ripped her a new one—I caught the tail end of it. All the other times, Catherine followed my example—delete the message, ignore the call, delete the email. Finally, I started receiving letters. I would open them, but not read them, to be certain they didn't contain my grandmother's ring—I wasn't going to ask for it back because the plan was to avoid speaking to her again entirely, but if she'd sent it back, I wasn't going to throw it away either—and to see if she'd sent pictures of Ayla.

I still loved the daughter, despite hating the mother.

I kept track of her age… she'd been four months when Sara and I stopped talking. I thought of her every day, looked up in the stacks of baby books I had what she would be doing in each month, wondering if she had rolled over yet… if she could sit up by herself… if she was crawling, or walking. I mean, I knew ten months was very young for that, but it had happened. I wondered what her first word had been, and how many she could say… which toys were her favorite and which foods she liked or hated and if her eyes were still blue or if they'd changed to brown.

I imagined her looking very much like Sara, and though this inspired a bittersweet feeling, I was convinced that she was the most beautiful little girl in the world.

I started thinking about sending her a birthday present, but the incessant calls from Sara had finally slowed down. …She still called me, once at day, at seven o'clock, like clockwork… but that was it. Eventually, I knew, she would give up… she would let herself be content in the life she had with Jace, and Ayla would grow up with two parents who, despite their other faults, obviously loved her.

I forced myself to be content with it—until a day in mid-June, about a month before Ayla's first birthday, when Sara did something she never did. She called the lab, but she did not ask for me—she simply left a message for me with Judy, asking that if I refused to read it, that Judy personally relay the information, because it was urgent. I did not, in fact, look at the message. I asked who is was from and she responded, "A woman named Sara," and I tossed the note into the garbage, unread. Judy cleared her throat, more than a little uncertain. "…She said… if you did that… I was supposed to tell you anyway."

I sighed in frustration. "Really, Judy, thank you for the zeal you have for your job, but I don't want to—"

"It's Ayla."

Two words, and my entire world shifted.

* * *

I spiraled out of control.

I hate to admit it, but Jace probably saved me… I had no idea how close I was to self-destruction until he dragged me to the doctor, insisting they look at me and determine if I had post-partum depression or psychosis. With a weary groan, I informed him that despite his knowledge of my family history of mental illness, he clearly didn't know much about mental illness in general… I was not psychotic.

But I was depressed—I was a master of hiding things from shrinks, but even I couldn't hide this. Gil's refusal to talk to me or even listen had taken its toll on me. I'd stopped going to work and, understandably, been fired. I'd stopped playing with Ayla—I went through the motions of taking care of her, and held her close to me constantly, terrified that I was going to lose her, but I didn't engage her… not even peek-a-boo.

I fought them on it—I didn't want to be medicated, and I most certainly didn't want to go to counseling. As I said, I've had my share of time with shrinks… I wasn't a fan. But when Jace pointed out that my mental illness, confirmed at this point, could affect my ability to raise Ayla… could lead someone to declare me an unfit parent… I gave in.

I think it's already clear that I would give up anything and everything I had and then some for Ayla… and so I did.

Months later, of course, I realize how bad I was… how much better I got, just in the first month. I realized how little Ayla had smiled, in those days, and desperately worried if I had not negatively affected her in some way already. Slowly but surely, though, I came out of myself. I did little things… I took Ayla for a walk. I cooked a real supper for myself and Jace while she was munching on Fruit Puffs. I cleaned the house, started reading forensics magazines again, slept through the night and woke up rested.

I think Jace expected that now that Gil was out of my life, and I was getting over my issues, eventually I would step back into the family mold he wanted. And while I was grateful that he'd seen how desperate I was for help and intervened on my behalf, that did not mean that I was willing to pretend that 'good enough' could ever be enough anymore. I was quieter, despite feeling like I had rejoined the living, and Jace and I rarely spoke. There was no animosity between us, at least not in words, because I knew that despite him causing me to lose Gil, this event being the catalyst of my break down, I had been headed in that direction anyway. He had saved my life by forcing me to get help, so I could restrain my anger for him.

Which is not to say that I was giving up… Once I was functioning again, I had a meeting with my former boss and explained what had happened and what I'd been going through, to an extent. I was hired back, on probation, and started saving my money. I might not want to be constantly fighting with him, but when I had the money, I was going to take Ayla and run. I didn't know where, and knowing how Jace's considerable income translated into considerable influence, I wasn't sure how… but I was going to.

In my more foolish daydreams, I thought we'd go to Puerto Ayora and I would work at the Research Center. I had this picture in my head of Ayla looking at Lonesome George the way most children looked at the family dog… and this whimsical fantasy that Gil would come to the center, sometime in the future, and see me there… see Ayla… and be so overcome with love once again that all would be forgiven, before I could even explain.

In the only slightly foolish dreams, I saw myself flying to Vegas to explain before convincing him to run away with me… but logically, I knew that didn't work.

To avoid the courts that could take her from me, I'd need to leave the country. To be untrackable once out of the country, I'd need to change our names. In order to do so without creating a paper trail, I would have to be prepared… and probably find a few people willing to break a few laws to help me. I mean, worst case scenario, I figured I'd hop a plane to somewhere in Europe, and once there, pay for transportation in cash, losing myself somewhere obscure and hopefully English-speaking, though I was not opposed to learning French or Italian. The problem was that, sooner or later, you had to give someone your name… but we'd cross that bridge when we came to it.

The first time I spoke to Jace in a unnecessary capacity was in the beginning of May—there was a massive oil spill off the coast of Costa Rica and the projections of damage to the environment and wildlife were devastating, without even considering the lost income for people who depended on tourism and fishing etc. to bring food home to their children. I wasn't going to mention it—it would just cause another fight, after all—but when they mentioned the name of the oil company, it struck a nerve.

"…Isn't that the company Murdoch and Mercer had a deal with?"

He glanced up from his supper to the small kitchen TV I had turned towards the table with the news on. He struggled to hear it because Ayla was banging her spoon on her highchair, but when they said the name again, he raised his eyebrows in a confusing expression—it seemed like half-concern and half-relief. The relief I could understand, so I went with that one.

"…Aren't you glad you're not involved with all of that anymore?"

He lowered his eyebrows this time, almost forming a frown. "Yes, I am. …I don't envy anyone involved in that."

"Think of all the damage it's going to do… all of the things we saw in Costa Rica that stupid incidents like this could prevent Ayla from ever getting to see…"

"I didn't see much of Costa Rica," he said, a little glumly, a little snidely. I looked at my plate, not because I was ashamed of my actions, but because he'd made me think of Gil again, and it hurt. I still called him once a night, every night, but other than that, I tried to keep him out of my mind. It didn't do me any good to dwell. If he answered, I would try to explain… but at this point, I really didn't expect him to. I would just keep calling, forever if I had to.

"…That oil company has a terrible safety record. I mean, usually their spills aren't this bad, but I guarantee you they weren't taking every necessary precaution to avoid this. …I can't believe Costa Rica would let them drill so close."

He stood up then, abruptly, having eaten less than half his meal. He moved to empty his plate and put it in the dishwasher, and then gave me an uncertain smile. "I, uh… didn't sleep very well, last night. I think I'm gonna head to bed early."

"…Okay." I frowned, watching him go, thinking that he was hiding something if he was leaving the first time I'd openly conversed with him in months and months… but what? Why would he be worried about the dealings of a company he no longer worked for?

It troubled me, but in the next moment Ayla lifted a spoonful of her applesauce into her hair, and I let the thought go—I would worry about it later.

On a night in the middle of June, I laid Ayla down in her crib, in her own room now that she was sleeping through the night, and headed to my own. I felt troubled… on edge. I couldn't sleep for the longest time, but eventually drifted to sleep around midnight… I woke with a start at four a.m. in a blind panic and without knowing why I felt this way, I just knew I had to get to my Ayla. I had to make sure she was okay before I could calm the pounding in my heart.

I hurried into her room, but I knew without looking into her crib that she was gone—the window had been open, her blanket slung over the side of the crib, a large stuffed turtle toy that she carried everywhere on the floor instead of resting on the little table beside her crib with her lamp. Still, I looked… I ran to the crib, clutched the rails, and confirmed my worst fear—Ayla was gone.

I ran into Jace's room, my desperate hope that she was in there with him, or that he was gone too… I would rather he take her from me than some stranger who wanted her for god knew what reason. Maybe he'd discovered my secret account and attempted to beat me to the punch. Maybe he—was sleeping soundly in his bed.

I let out a wail at the sight of him and was instantly at his side, shaking him and plucking his phone from the nightstand, frantically calling 911 and shouting to him and the operator at the same time that my baby was gone. My baby, my whole world, had been taken from me and I would die if anything happened to her.

By five am the house was filled with people, Jace and I on the pavement outside out home, shivering in the cool of the early morning, wearing flip flops and bathrobes over our pajamas, while a less than empathetic detective questioned us until my head was spinning. He suspected us, which was fine—I knew how these things worked—but upsetting me further wasn't going to get him accurate information. Finally, I just turned to Jace in the middle of the man's questions, fire burning in my eyes—I knew what I had to do if I wanted my baby girl back.

"I'm calling Gil to help."

His eyes widened in surprise. "…Sara, I'm sure they have it under control."

"…He's the best criminalist in the country and he loved her as much as either of us did… and you don't want him here, helping?"

The pause was infinitesimal, and then he handed me his cell phone without argument. I turned from the detective in irritation, calling information. "Las Vegas, Nevada." When the automated system gave me a real person, I steeled myself… I had to do this right, if I even wanted him to know what was going on. The only thing I could think was that I had to get someone who didn't know about me to pass on a message that he could understand. "Crime Lab, please."


	65. Chapter 65

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this up... I struggled with parts of, off and on, all night. :) I love, love, love all the reviews. Keep them coming. And for those who are concerned, I don't need to take any time away except for the time I've already warned you about--my wedding is over a year away. :) So no worries. It was nice of you all, though, to worry about me. Aaand, I finished the last of my finals yesterday, so the middle of my days should be free for writing. I'll see what I can do to increase the output of these chapters to prevent being stuck at a cliffhanger when I leave.

GSRMania--You're very funny. Jace screws up, and you call him every name in the book, and some that aren't in the book... some I don't even understand. But Grissom screws up, and you call him an egg, before assuring him that you still love him. :P

What did I say about all you readers showing favortism?

Alright, I'm heading to bed now... I was up late studying last night, and I'm beat.

* * *

Chapter Sixty Five:

I was already online, looking up flights to Boston when Sara answered Jace's cell phone—the number that had been on the crumpled message I'd thrown away and had to retrieve from the garbage and flatten out in order to call her back.

"Hello?"

"What happened?" I demanded, in a near panic.

"…She's been kidnapped."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. She spoke for me.

"…You have to come help. …Assist in the investigation. …Gil," her voice broke over my name and I understood her anguish because it was my own. My baby was missing. I unfroze, turning frantic eyes to the computer screen… the soonest flight wasn't for hours.

"I… the next flight leaves at ten tonight." It was still early morning… My shift was just finishing. That was far too long to wait… Ayla didn't have that long.

"Jace." She said, pleadingly, and I hated the way her voice implied how much she needed him. I heard the sound of the phone being passed and then the man himself was on the phone.

"I can have a private jet ready to leave McCarran in just under an hour, if you can be ready by then."

"I'll be there." I said, without a second thought. I might hate the man, but in this moment, he and I were in the same position. I hung up without another word, practically running down the hall to find Catherine in the locker room, getting ready to leave for the day.

"I need you to run shift tonight… and tomorrow night. …For as long as I'm gone."

She narrowed her eyes. "…What's going on, Gil?"

"Ayla," I gasped out, frantic. "She's… she's been kidnapped, Cath. I… I have to go. I have to… Shit!" I looked at my watch. "I have less than an hour to catch my plane!"

I pushed past her in blind panic, ripping open my locker and realizing with relief that I had several changes in a duffle bag, resting on the bottom. I grabbed it and my migraine prescription bottle and slammed my locker closed. "Thanks Cath!"

"…Call and let me know!" She yelled after me, and though I heard her, I didn't stop to respond—I was already halfway down the hall. I made it to the airport with time to spare, but having never flown in a private jet, I didn't know where to go… by the time I'd been directed and found my way, it was pushing the hour mark. I noted as I climbed aboard and fell into a seat with a huff that this was a company plane rather than a personal plane… I should have expected as much. Sara would never let Jace own his own plane. …And it wouldn't be readily accessible in Vegas, either. It must be the new company he was working for…

It was the longest plane ride of my life. When I had been flying to see Sara almost a year before, for Ayla's birth, I had been able to relax once we'd taken off… once I could feel like we were moving forward and I was getting closer. I did not feel that way today—I couldn't settle down, couldn't sit still. I got up once the seatbelt light turned off and paced the aisle, simply because I was going to lose my mind if I stayed in my seat. I was offered a drink, and had 'scotch on the rocks' on my lips, but I held it back, shaking my head instead.

As much as it might calm me down, I didn't want anything to be distracting me. Sara had said she wanted me there to find Ayla… she wasn't working with the Crime Lab. She would have to wait, absent any information, for Ayla to be found. …But would they just let me step in and help? Surely they'd be suspicious of my relationship to Sara and Jace and Ayla… As a 'person of interest,' in this case, I could compromise the investigation.

I picked up the phone in the back of the seat in front of me, not even asking if I could use it, dialing and waiting while it rang.

"Los Angeles Crime Lab, Can I help you?"

"I need to speak to Dave Wilson, please."

There was a click as I was put on hold and transferred—I needed to find a forensic scientist in the country who had a personal relationship with Mark Foster, Boston's Lab Director. Someone to vouch for me…

"Wilson."

"David… Gil Grissom."

"Gil! It's been a while… How are ya'?"

"Actually, not well. …I'm calling in a favor."

I could hear his chair creak and imagined he'd gone from reclining in the office chair, his feet on his desk, to sitting upright in apprehension. "…Well there's something I never thought I'd see: Gil Grissom playing politics."

"How well do you know Mark Foster?"

There was a frown in his voice now. "From Boston?"

"The very same."

"…Not well. Although, you know, I think my Assistant Director worked under him right out of college. …Why?"

"The daughter of… some friends of mine… was kidnapped this morning. They're having me fly to Boston because they want to make sure nothing's overlooked or… misinterpreted."

"…But your personal relationship with the prime suspects makes you a liability in their lab?"

"Exactly," I said, glad that he'd picked up my drift so quickly. "Now, I'm not saying I want access to the evidence or to even touch it… I just want the opportunity to be a fly on the wall. …Not that I doubt their abilities, but it would really give them a little peace of mind, which they could use right now, you know?"

"Hey, you don't have to tell me, Gil. If I weren't in the job and had to pick someone to look for my kid, I'd probably pick you too. You're probably the best criminalist in the country, and the way you go after people who try to hurt kids…" He stopped and I waited, thinking that overspeaking would simply make it easier to say no. I needed to keep the pressure high. "…Let me talk to Liz. I'll explain the situation, and I'm sure she'll be able to put in a good word for you…"

"Thank you." I gasped, relieved—the L.A. number was the only one I knew without my rolodex. I would have been on the phone the entire flight just trying to track people down.

"Can I call you back…?"

"I, uh… I'm not sure. I'm on a plane, actually, heading to Boston. …I'll call you in twenty, yeah?"

"Yeah." He hung up without worrying about the niceties, something I'd always appreciated when we'd worked together in L.A. He didn't do things just because it was expected.

I was up and pacing again, counting the minutes, sweating profusely I was so nervous. I went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, practiced measured breathing, and then came back out, trying to keep up the breathing until twenty minutes had passed.

I couldn't do it—I called at eighteen and a half minutes, agonizing over this because it was the only thing I had right now… I needed to be doing something and this was the only way I could feel like I was doing something for Ayla. …She was probably so afraid. …She was under a year—did that mean she was still nursing? Wouldn't she be hungry? …I refused to let myself believe she was in worse shape than that—I couldn't even think it.

I was directed, once again, back to Dave's office, and it rang and rang and rang… until he picked up, on the sixteenth ring. You would have thought some sort of messaging system would have kicked in, but it didn't, and so I counted the rings, waiting, waiting. "Gil?"

"Dave." I responded, wiping my forehead with my forearm.

"She just called him—he's not happy about it. Liz says he's pretty territorial… Anyway, your reputation is really what did it. A man who is known for willingly calling his own evidence into question while at trial is fairly low-risk, but you're still not allowed to touch or process anything. …You're eyes only."

"Fine. Great. Perfect. Oh thank God, Dave!"

"…Glad I could help. Are we… we're good now, right? Square?"

I managed a thin smile—he had lost a body, in L.A. while I was the coroner… I'd covered for him until he could figure out where it had been mistakenly transported to. It could have cost him his career… and it could have severely damaged mine. "Square. Hell, if they find her, I'll owe you one…"

He sighed. "Okay… Glad I could help, Gil. I hope you find her."

"Bye, Dave." I said, hanging up.

I still can't tell you how I managed to survive the rest of the flight without pulling my hair out—all I know is that I did not calm down the entire time… it was at the suggestion of the woman who had been offering me drinks every hour or so that I changed my shirt shortly before our descent—I hadn't stopped sweating since I'd heard the news. I expected to hail a cab and call for the address when I landed, but there was already a driver waiting for me. He told me 'Mr. and Mrs. Wendt' were at the police station, answering questions, and asked whether I would like to go there to see them or whether I'd like to see the house first.

I wasn't ready to see Sara in pieces, and the sooner I started helping, the sooner we could find Ayla and get her home safely.

I was uncertain whether I'd would be allowed under the tape, but a flash of my LVCL ID and I was let through, directed to a man I didn't know—he introduced himself as Calvin Reynolds, the supervisor of the shift that was working Ayla's kidnapping. He didn't ask questions or challenge my right to be there—he just handed me two pairs of gloves and advised me not to touch anything. If I saw something, I was supposed to bring it to one of their CSI's attention, not attempt to retrieve or document it myself.

I followed him inside the home, taking it in for the first time—when I had been in town for Ayla's birth, I'd never been taken inside. It had Sara written all over it—the front entry was beside a living room filled with natural light and infant's toys. But of course, Sara being the woman she was, they were all organized and put away neatly. I stepped through the living room, into an airy kitchen painted in warm tones, so that you felt simultaneously uplifted and cozy. It was open to a small dining area with a round table, a highchair pulled up in lieu of one of the four chairs. The right side of these rooms was more or less a walkway, and turned just past the dining table into a hallway, where I assumed I would find bedrooms. The remaining space of the long, open room was another living room that looked a little less formal, and which had far more toys present. …Ayla was well loved.

I turned down the hallway, glancing into doorways—bathroom, guest room—I hesitated then. Ayla's room was to the right—it was painted in sweet, lulling pastels, and there was a fluffy white lamb on the door with her name in colorful letters beneath it. To my left, was another open room that I recognized to be Sara's… everything was neat and tidy, the bedspread as she had described it, several books stacked on her desk—the only thing out of place. I moved on, unable to go into either just yet, and found the Master… A quick cursory glance showed that this was the one room in the home in which Sara had had no interest. The walls were white and sparse, the furniture nice but utilitarian—a few pictures of Ayla and one of Jace and Sara in San Francisco adorned it, but there was no rhyme or reason for their placement. And it was a messy.

There was no way Sara had been in here. It pained me, but then… I knew what I had heard. Just because they were still sleeping in separate beds didn't mean they hadn't slept together that night. I had already been around and around this issue in my head—even if it had been a foolish mistake, never to be repeated, it was more than I could handle. Still, I looked in the master bathroom—only men's toiletries—and glanced through the closet and dresser drawers—only men's clothing—and finally into the drawer by the nightstand—nothing to indicate the man was having sex, with Sara or anyone else.

If it didn't matter, why was I looking?

I moved out of the room, stubbornly telling myself that I was just curious. If they were still fighting over Ayla, that could give either one of them motive.

I couldn't handle Ayla's room yet, so I forced myself into Sara's. A glance around told me basically the same story—only her clothes in her closet and dresser, only items that seemed blatantly Sara in the room. But there was something noticeably different—she had taken the time to decorate. Pictures of Ayla covered the walls, picture frames lined the top of her desk and framed a candle on her dresser. I felt a deep pang when I realized that many of the pictures on her desk were of the two of us, on the cruise. There was even one the doctor had taken, in the hospital. Sara said that her doctor must have sensed something, because although she'd said she had to try to take a second one of all three of us with Ayla because Sara was blinking, when Sara had looked at the pictures, she was not blinking. And the second one was just the two of us, with Ayla.

I closed my eyes, focusing my breathing again, and checked the drawer by her nightstand as well—nothing to indicate that she was having sex with anyone, although there was a prescription bottle. I wondered briefly if I shouldn't call it to someone's attention, but I wanted to see it first… They were antidepressants. How long had Sara been taking them? Had it been recent, or long-term? …Wouldn't she have told me about it, if she'd been on them for a long time?

I put them back, moving now with purpose to Ayla's room, because I had this deep and desperate feeling threatening to overtake me that I might have been wrong about what had happened. I didn't know how him sleeping in her bed could have a reasonable explanation, but clearly she had not jumped back into having a life with him after I'd stopped speaking to her… Did that say something?

…I needed to get back to the matter at hand. Ayla. One step into her room—the first of the bedrooms to be occupied when I entered—told me a clear story. The window was open. It was on the ground floor. Things were disturbed—a blanket over the edge of the crib, a teddy bear on the floor, the rocking chair pushed out, away from the wall it was clearly meant to be tucked again, near the window. Sara would never have left the blanket or the chair or the bear like that…

I had seen enough. I needed to see Sara… I needed to see where they were on the case… I needed to see how close we were to finding Ayla. …And once she was safe, I needed to know what had happened between us… I needed to know if I'd made a terrible mistake. I needed to know if she still loved me.

I peeled the gloves off and gave them to Calvin, who promptly bagged and tagged them, before making my way out to the driver who was still waiting for me. "…Are they still at the station?"

"I haven't been told otherwise, Mr. Grissom."

"Can you take me there, please?"

He opened the door for me, which made me uncomfortable, but I allowed it, making the trip in silence, because the man's attempts at small talk were falling on deaf ears—I couldn't even pretend to care about the weather or the flight or how much warmer it was in Vegas. And when we finally stopped and I hurried inside, I expected to have to wrestle my way through red tape to get to see her… but she was right there, in the lobby. She had looked up in surprise when the doors opened, and when our eyes met… I knew.

I knew that she had never cheated on me, I knew that she still loved me, and I knew that she had never in her life been more afraid of anything. I wanted to sweep her up in my arms, whisper words of reassurance, promise that I would do everything within my power to get her back… but in a moment, everything changed again. Her eyes hardened and narrowed, her body stiffened, and she turned her head away from me, breaking our gazes.

And then Jace stepped out of a doorway accompanied by a man who reminded me strongly of Brass, took the seat beside her, placed a comforting arm around her shoulder… and I watched her lean into it, drawing comfort from him instead of me.


	66. Chapter 66

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: I'm sooo sorry for the delay in updates. I got caught up reading another story on FF today, and so only wrote half a chapter... and then realized that my fiance had preschool graduation tonight, so I wouldn't be able to come right home after work and finish it. It was super cute though--they all got to say what they wanted to be when they grew up. One little boy said he wanted to be a "knight and shining armor" rather than 'in' and a little boy and girl each said they wanted to be a mommy and a daddy. My fiance is so quick-thinking with stuff like that... "You want to be a daddy, huh? ...I know somebody who wants to be a mommy." ...He's so funny. And cute. :)

Tomorrow I'll be better about writing. I promise. Thanks for the reviews! You guys make me so happy!

* * *

Chapter Sixty Six:

"When was the last time you saw her?"

I closed my eyes. This was the fifth time they'd asked me this, which only meant one thing—Jace and I were their prime suspects. Otherwise we wouldn't be going through it over and over, to see if I would slip up. I sighed. "Listen to me. I was a CSI. I know the drill. I get it, you suspect me… but honestly, I don't have the mental capacity to deal with this right now. You know that I checked on her before I went to bed, around midnight, and that she was sleeping soundly, safe in her bed. You also know that I woke up around four, minutes before I frantically called 911. Now, if there's something else you want to ask me… something you haven't asked yet… something that will help you find her, I would be more than happy to hear it. If not, we're done here."

"I've got a new question," said the detective who had spoken to us at our home. He had a receding hair line straight back to the crown of his head and a sarcastic demeanor… he looked like he would be hard to surprise or intimidate. I met his eyes.

"By all means."

"Who is the man you called?"

I hesitated for the space of a breath, before lying through my teeth. "A friend of the family. …But he's the best criminalist in the country. If anyone's going to find Ayla, it's him."

"And he was the only other person at Ayla's birth, is that right? …Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, uncertain how he knew that. They hadn't spoken to Jace alone yet…

"The pictures in your room—I recognized the famous Gil Grissom from them immediately. He's done lots of lectures in town here. …You two looked pretty cozy."

I stared at him in silence, and he chuckled.

"Maybe it's worse than just an affair… it seems strange to me that you didn't have a mother or a sister or a girlfriend there, in the birthing room, but you had another man… and your husband allowed it. …Do I sense a little _ménage à trois_?"

I blinked in surprise. "Oh god. No!"

"But you have slept with Gil Grissom."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it."

"I don't think I have to affirm or deny anything to you… the status of my marriage is not related to the case."

"…No? …You and the hubby are sleeping in different bedrooms. Your room is covered in pictures of Ayla and this man… You don't think it's even remotely possible that Jace did this? Maybe kidnapped her, under pretense, to avoid a messy custody hearing?"

I hesitated again, but shook my head. As much as I had seen another side of Jace, since the cruise… I still knew this was beyond him. "No. …No matter the state of our marriage, he wouldn't put her at risk. …And as far as either of us are concerned, if she isn't with us, she's at risk."

"…Well, feel free to take a seat in the lobby, Mrs. Wendt. We'll be speaking to your husband next…"

I followed them out, sinking into one of the tattered chairs in the lobby, burying my face in my hands. Jace was already waiting in another interrogation room, and though I'm sure they expected me not to hear it, I heard the detective mutter to someone beside him, "…She's hiding something. Twenty bucks says the husband tells us what…"

"Nah… nobody just chooses to live with someone when they're in love with someone else—not in this day and age. She wouldn't still be there if he didn't have his hooks in her."

"…So what does that leave? The husband figures he can only control a firecracker like that for so long and takes the girl rather than lose her, or the wife is tired of being controlled. No baby, no way he can keep her tied down."

I groaned, pressing my fingers against my eyes. These dumb ass cops were so busy investigating us that they were buying the real kidnapper time. …In kidnapping cases, every moment was precious… and they were wasting Ayla's moments! I wanted to scream out my frustration and insist that they send someone who hadn't already made up their mind to process the house… I had half a mind to do just that when the door swung open and I glanced up, out of habit more than anything.

Seeing him again… it hit me like a ton of bricks. I fell in love with him all over again. I mean, he had changed… he looked older, more tired, the corners of his lips bent down. He'd grown a beard, and there was more gray in his hair, a little less confidence in the way he held himself… but he was my Gil. The only man I had ever loved like this… It took my breath away, to see him standing there, light surrounding him from the doorway like some ethereal being, his face cast in darkness. It had been far too long since I'd seen him, heard his voice…

I felt my body shift with the realization. It had been too long because he had intentionally cut me out of his life. …He had abandoned me when I was exhausted and spiraling into a depression and trapped in a loveless marriage against my will. …He had promised me that he would love me, no matter what… that he wasn't going to give up on me just because of my impossible situation. …But he had lied. He hadn't had the fortitude to stick it out, the trust in me to suspect Jace's dishonesty, or the decency to even hear me out.

I turned away from him, and caught the sight of Jace moving through the hallway, back to me. …That had been fast. Apparently he hadn't given them any new information either. He didn't see Gil—he just sat beside me and pulled me to him, seeking comfort as much as he was offering it, and I took it. Because I didn't know for certain how Gil felt about me or about Ayla, but I knew how Jace felt. …Certainty was rather reassuring, right now. It was what I needed.

The next time I looked up, he was moving over to us. I nudged Jace and he followed my gaze. His arm slid off my shoulder and we stood together, as a single unit, united in our grief. I swallowed convulsively, not knowing what to say to him and a part of me uncertain if I even cared… Ayla was missing. No matter how much he'd hurt me, it couldn't compare to what I was going through right now.

Jace offered his hand and put a false smile on his face, no doubt to keep the awkwardness of our relationship from the detective who had led him back out here and who was no doubt observing our interactions. We didn't know what they'd do if they knew about my relationship with Gil, but there was the chance they wouldn't let him help with the case anymore, and I didn't trust them to find Ayla on their own. …Gil would find her.

With that determination in mind, I offered the ghost of a smile—the most I could muster with the gaping hole of emptiness within me—"…Thank you for coming so quickly, Gil."

He met my eyes, and in a moment it was clear the façade was understood. "I'm sorry we had to see each other under these circumstances… any updates?"

I frowned. "No… the way they've been questioning us, I wouldn't be surprised to hear they haven't eve processed anything from the house yet…"

"They suspect you?" He asked in surprise, and I knew that he meant me specifically… He wasn't above suspecting Jace either, apparently.

I shrugged. "Half the time. …Did you notice anything at the house?"

His eyes flickered away uncertainly and he shuffled his feet. "…I was just looking around. I'm… not allowed to process… Listen, let's… head out to the car, yeah?" He said, clearly wanting to speak away from the detectives still watching up.

The man who had questioned me stepped forward. "Before you do that… I was wondering if I could just have a minute with you… ask a few questions."

Gil leveled a stare on the man. "I just got here, and a quick call to the my lab will give you my alibi for when Ayla went missing. So that means that, if you're any kind of a detective, you've already ruled me out. …So the only point of questioning me would be to delve into my relationship with Jace and Sara. I'm a friend of the family. …Questions answered. We'll be just outside, if you need to reach us."

He turned and led Jace and I back outside and, with uncertain glances back at the detective who looked entirely nonplussed by Gil's outburst, let him lead us to Jace's company vehicle. Jace passed his driver a tip and told him to take a coffee break, and we all slid inside. It was not a large vehicle—Gil sat in the passenger seat and Jace and I sat in the back, on either side of the car. There was a long, long moment of silence, and then Gil sighed.

"Be honest with me—enemies, threats… Jace, you especially. You work for a high-profile company. …Chances are this is targeted at you, not Sara."

"…None."

"Sara?"

"None." I said, thinking that he was crazy if he believed that we would not have told the police this much. If we had any inkling who would do this, we would have of course told them.

"How long have you been on antidepressants?" He asked, and the question caught me off guard.

"Excuse me?" I sputtered, uncertain, and Jace frowned deeply.

"What does this have to do with Ayla?"

Gil frowned too. "It has to do with my ability to trust the two of you. …Jace, for example, has been manipulative and deceiving, but he's never told an outright lie to my face. …Sara, I'm not so sure about."

I gasped at the insinuation, filled with anger that was only fueled by the ache of not having my child. "God, you're an asshole! I didn't hide being on the drugs, I got on them after you stopped talk to me. …_Because_ you stopped talking to me!" I slammed my fist against the back of his armrest, so fucking sick of people making this about me or Jace… this was about Ayla. Why couldn't anyone see that?

Jace tried to reach out to take my hand and calm me, but I snatched it out of his grasp. "Don't do that! Don't play supporting husband with me!" At the alarmed look on his face, I sighed, feeling resentful that he'd made me feel guilty for my outburst. "…I… I just… I'm not wrong here. Why aren't we talking about Ayla?"

I jumped and yelped in surprise when a tap came at my window—the detective. God, what was his name? I opened the door and he bent down. "…You just received a phone call at your home—the kidnapper left a ransom message."


	67. Chapter 67

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Look at me, updating before noon! :) (...before ten at night!) This chapter is longer than last night's, and we see Grissom coming to his senses a little, which should appease some of my readers. ...Ahem.

Btw, Jelly, none of my one year olds can talk that well. ...I have a little girl who just turned two who tried this morning for me, after I read the review. I got a "Make him say... Oh sorry, peas!" :) Although, you were strangely accurate in your descriptions. Are you spying on me? And though I think that Grissom has been a bit OOC in this story, fueled by his mid-life crisis and Sara not being his employee, of course... I don't think the pregnancy lovin' was OOC. Having an affair with a married woman, absolutely. Having sex with a pregnant woman, even if it isn't his baby? No. I could totally see Grissom doing that. Easily. :)

Menage a trois with a baby. Ugh. ...You're going to have to rebuild that wall you know. ...They don't come cheap.

CSIKathy--It's funny. You think I should be afraid of Jelly's anger, and she thinks I should be afraid of yours... I have a feeling you two have these crazy, angry conversations about this story... I'm starting to worry that my death is being planned now instead of Jace. ...Did I mention, to anyone, that I live in China? I do. Just in case anyone's looking for me... China. Ni Hao!

(Yeah, I only know that phrase because of my daycare kids. ...Swiper, No Swiping!)

* * *

Chapter Sixty Seven:

_Ten million in unmarked bills. Midnight. _

I closed my eyes in frustration. God, that wasn't much to go on. "…Were you able to trace the call?" I asked the detective, who had introduced himself to me when we reentered the station—Leda. I had wanted to ask 'and the swan?' but I had a feeling the gruff man wouldn't not have understood nor appreciated the reference, and Sara would have understood and resented my ability to ask a question like that at a time like this… so I refrained.

The fact of the matter was that I was reeling. I hadn't known what to do with the change in Sara… the way she had looked as if, for a brief moment, I was her knight in shining armor come to save the day, and then it had disappeared, to be replaced by a cold and unfeeling woman in her place. We needed to talk about us, but I didn't want to with Jace present… and with Ayla missing, I felt like it would be insensitive to expect her to think about our relationship until she were found.

Detective Leda cleared his throat. "They're working on it—it was a rather short message, but the delay you heard in the beginning may have given us enough time to…" He frowned and ran a hand over his expansive bald spot. "The CSIs are working on it." He replied, clearly not comfortable with the science part of all of this. I wanted to run to the lab and sit in on the analysis of the audio, but I also didn't want to leave Sara right now… and I wanted to talk this ransom message out.

Sara wiped eyes that had been streaming since the first time we'd listened to the message. "They… they didn't say where. …That means they have to contact us again. …If we can keep them talking, this time… Maybe we can ask for proof that Ayla's alive."

I reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, but she flinched away. I closed my eyes. "Chances are they're not going to stay on the phone to speak to the police… you two need to be at the house. Jace, you especially."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're the one with the money—you're the more likely target of this."

Sara glanced between us. "…Where are you going?"

"…The lab. …See if I can't offer some help with the audio."

I could see in her eyes that she wanted to come too, but there was no way of knowing whether it was because she wanted to help with the audio as well or because she wanted to be with me. Either way, we both knew it was impossible. "…You'll call… the minute you know anything?" She wiped at her eyes again and then, seeing a tissue offered by Detective Leda, muttered a thank you and took it, wiping first her eyes and then blowing her nose.

"…Of course." My heart ached. I wanted to pull her into my arms. …I wanted to say that this would never have happened if she had left Jace on the cruise ship. That if Ayla had been in my home, she would never have fallen victim to whomever had taken her for whatever reason… but I couldn't say that was exactly true either. I had my share of enemies both behind bars and roaming the Vegas streets.

"…I'll go with you, Jace."

Detective Leda spoke up. "I can give you ride to the lab, Dr. Grissom."

"Thank you."

I watched Sara for a long moment, not wanting to leave her presence, despite the animosity between us. "Jace… stay close to her." I warned, my stomach churning at the thought that had just occurred to me. "Anyone who is trying to get at you through your family… if they'd take a baby, they wouldn't have qualms over harming the wife."

Sara seemed entirely unconcerned, but I saw the genuine fear flash in Jace's eyes… and immediately ruled him out as a suspect. If he was afraid for her, then he wasn't orchestrating this. He bit his lip. "I… I don't have that kind of cash. I mean… I can get it… but it'll take me most of the day. …I don't know if I should just be sitting at the house…"

I shook my head. "We're not even considering giving them anything until we know Ayla's alive… the money is the only power play we have—the only reason they have to keep her alive. …Believe me, it'd be so much easier for them to kill her than to return her safely. …You have to hold out."

Jace frowned at this, but said nothing, gesturing to Sara that he was going to get in the car now and then sliding in. …I noticed that despite the occasional offers of comfort which seemed directly related to Ayla's disappearance, he didn't touch her… Even when I'd been in town for Ayla's birth, he had touched her a little bit. …It was like he felt he wasn't allowed.

Sara's eyes met mine again. "…You're sure about the ransom?"

"You know how this works Sara. You give them the money, they have no reason to keep talking to us…"

She looked conflicted. "…But if we make this more difficult for them…"

I stepped forward, laying gentle hands on her upper arms and feeling the tiniest of victories that she didn't pull from me or flinch at my touch. "…Trust me, Sara. ...Trust yourself. You know that we're far more likely to find Ayla following evidence than following directions. …Right?"

Her eyes were brimming again and she drew in a shaky breath, nodding. "Right. Right. I know, but…"

"It's harder when it's your own child. …I feel it too, honey." I said, unintentionally. I hadn't meant to open myself to such vulnerability, but it slipped. She blinked at the tears and looked up at me in surprise, like she wasn't sure if she should believe me… or trust that the term of endearment meant something.

"…I… can't do this with you, Gil. I…" She shook her head and closed her eyes, the actions causing two tears to race each other down her cheeks. "…I just need Ayla. …I don't want to get in the middle of you and Jace grunting and flexing your testosterone… I don't want either of you, I just want my baby back." She pulled out of my grasp, a sob slipping between her lips, over-bright from crying and her teeth worrying them all morning. "Just find her, Gil. …Please."

She turned her back on me and climbed into the back seat with Jace, though she made no move to seek further comfort from him as they drove away. I sighed and turned to Det. Leda, who was still standing there waiting for me, his hands in his pockets. He snorted under his breath. "Friend of the family, huh?"

I sighed. "…Let's just get to the lab."

The red tape I'd been expecting at their house was in full force at the lab… I had to sign so many forms before they'd let me back that my hand was cramping. I was guided to the AV lab where a kid who looked like he should still be in high school sat in a lab coat and a backwards hat, some sort of hip hop music playing in the background. …I found myself grateful for Greg, who only played music in labs where it wouldn't affect his ability to interpret evidence. In the AV lab, music was a much bigger problem.

Once I was offered a set of headphones, however, it blocked out the other noise while the shaggy-haired tech played the ransom message—There were several seconds before the message, and then the voice I'd heard in the police station repeated the ominous message. We listened several times, the CSI beside me picking out different parts and asking about reversing the voice distortion. …Hearing the real voice gave me hope—while it was an average voice of a man… in his thirties, if I had to guess… that none of us recognized—it wavered a little. The hesitation wasn't audible when the voice was distorted, but when it was clear… the man seemed nervous. Uncertain. My instinct told me he was the hired help, not the master mind.

"Play it through again," I said, hoping I might pick up something else distinguishing about the man. Once again, it played through… and though I didn't catch anything in his voice, there was something… "Again." I directed. The CSI beside me huffed, but I ignored him. I strained to hear and this time, I was certain. "There's something, right before he speaks… it's partially obscured by him inhaling. Can you isolate it?"

Despite the tech's deceptive appearance, he was quick to pick out the section, play it, and isolate the specific sound. I didn't even have to ask that he loop it. He could give Archie a run for his money… He hit play, and we listened to the sound repeat itself. It was a rasping ffpt! sound, following with a dull click. …No matter how many times I listened to it though, I couldn't place it. …It just sounded so familiar!

After listening for what seemed like an endless five minutes, I sighed and removed my headphones. When the CSI beside me, younger than me, followed suit, I took it as a cue that I was unofficially running the show. He might not like it, but he was deferring to me—between us, I had the power. "Were you able to trace the call anywhere?"

The tech frowned. "We traced the phone—disposable cell phone, the carrier has the name 'Mickey Mouse' attached to it. Purchased a week ago, in town, with cash. The store doesn't have a security system, so no video. Nobody remembers who bought it. …We tried to get a location, based on cell towers, but the signal cut out on us too quickly. I mean, I could tell you which half of the city he's in… but not much else. …When there's another signal, we'll start tracking it, but in the mean time…"

"Right." I sighed. In the mean time, nothing. Our only hopes at this point were that he would use the same phone to call to give a drop off point and the strange noise I could not for the life of me identify. I turned to the CSI. "…You guys get any prints from the room, any hairs… anything that didn't come from Jace, Sara, or Ayla."

He swallowed. "I… I'm not sure. I didn't even go to the scene—they just pulled me from another case to work the audio."

I nodded in slight frustration. I mean, it was nice that they were pulling people in hopes of rescuing Ayla alive… but I wanted someone who knew something. "Can you take me to someone who would know?"

"Gil Grissom." The voice came from the doorway. I looked up in surprise, and recognized Mark Foster, the Lab Director. I stood up and moved to him, offering a hand.

"Mark Foster. It's good to see you again." I said, because we'd been introduced a time or two at Forensic Academy Conferences. …I wished, suddenly, that I had been more politic at the time… Mark was rather territorial, and it wouldn't have hurt me to have gotten to know the man better.

"It's a surprise to see you again," he countered, gesturing with his head that I follow him out of the AV lab and down the hall. "I am under the understanding that you're going to be hands-off, is that correct?"

"Absolutely," I rushed to reassure him. "I just… Another pair of eyes never hurt, right?"

"No," he agreed. "Especially not yours. …I know it might not seem like it—Det. Leda has a rather no-nonsense attitude—but this is a rather high-profile case. I'm sure you're aware that Mr. Wendt's company makes sizable donations to most of the local politicians… the sheriff among them, but it goes up to the Mayor, the Senators, members of Congress…"

"I was not, actually."

He glanced at me out of the side of his eyes. "Well… a member of a company who is so… influential… in this town… having his infant daughter kidnapped… Let's just say that it puts me in a difficult position."

"Only if you don't find her alive." I countered, feeling that a little extra pressure to do this right wasn't a bad thing. He smirked at me.

"And people say you don't understand politics, Gil. …Listen, here's what I'm getting at… We're taking every available resource and applying it to this case. …Now, when we do find her… I don't want the headlines reading, 'Out of Town Hero Cracks Case.'"

I rolled my eyes. "Like I care about the publicity!"

He smiled, "No, I knew you wouldn't… I also don't want headlines in a few months to read, 'Evidence on Wendt Kidnapping Thrown Out—Visiting CSI Compromises Case.'" I frowned, and he nodded. "I think now we understand each other… I need to know what your relationship to Sara Wendt is. Because I'm not risking my entire Crime Lab so you can keep this hush-hush from her Sugar Daddy."

I snorted. "He's not her… what you said. …This information stays between the two of us?"

"Of course."

"…And you're not going to let me stay and 'assist' unless I tell you."

He offered a smile. "I'm not." He gestured to his office, which we were now outside of. I stepped in and he closed the door behind us. "Would you like to take a seat?"

I shook my head. "I'd rather be done with this as fast as possible. …Sara and I met just before she and Jace got married, which is why we never pursued a relationship… we ran into each other about a year and a half ago, roughly, and one thing led to another. We had an affair. Jace found out. …We stayed in contact, and I came for Ayla's birth… Jace allowed it, because Sara said she wouldn't allow him in the birthing room unless I could be there too. A few months later, we… had a fight and stopped talking. …When she told me about Ayla, it was the first time I'd talked to her in months."

"…Do you like the husband for it?"

I tilted my head. "…At first, I wasn't willing to rule him out, but… he seems genuinely afraid and uncertain. …I've seen the man when he thinks he has power and is calling the shots… It's drastically different."

"…What about Sara?"

I shook my head. "It wouldn't be hard to find motive, but she doesn't have it in her. …Plus, it was her idea to call me. …She wouldn't call me in if she were guilty… she'd know I'd figure it out."

"You have a healthy ego."

"I'm realistic."

He chuckled. "…Alright. Don't flaunt these details—if we don't have to answer questions about it, that's by far the better outcome."

I nodded, glancing at the door. "…Am I allowed to check in with the other labs?"

"Feel free," he nodded. "But I can tell you there's nothing to see, yet. …A few partials around the window that don't match the family, a show print in the garden… no matches to anything yet. …We're working on it."

I sighed. "Okay… I think I'm gonna head over to the house for a while then… Will you call me, if they get a hit on any of the prints?"

"Personally," He replied, which set me at ease. He was worried about his lab, of course… that was natural… but he was on my side in this, and that made all of this much easier to deal with. I thanked him and jotted down my cell number before hurrying from the room. I needed to relay some of this vital information…and I needed to see her again. …Maybe when she realized that we were making some progress, she'd calm down. …Maybe we could talk. …Maybe the bastard would slip up and leave his phone on, and we could track him down in the next hour… giving me the time to figure out what to do about this and how to explain myself.

Maybe she still loved me.


	68. Chapter 68

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Look at me! Two chapters before 9 pm! :) ...Do you feel better, after this chapter, Jelly?

Also, if you haven't seen last night's CSI, please don't read this... Okay, so I just watched it this afternoon because ps grad threw off my night, but... Were they intentionally trying to do an homage to the Strip Strangler with the team rallying around Langston the way they did around Grissom? ...Because it's the only way I can agree with Catherine not suspending him, because they don't want it to look like she doesn't see him as part of the team. ...And I liked that they did that, you know, but did it seemed forced to anyone else? Like, rallying around Grissom was natural... he was their leader and their mentor and they were behind him. ...Rallying behind Langston seemed... nice, but not... natural and expected and like a relief. It felt like it was good of them, but not something they_ should _have done. It was optional. ...I dunno. It's just been bothering me. Maybe they didn't meant to draw the parallel and I'm reading too much into it. ...If Catherine shoots Jekyll right before he kills Langston who foolishly confronted him alone and unarmed, I'll know I was right. ...Any thoughts?

Hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Sixty Eight:

The waiting by the phone was horrible. The house was crowded with people, setting up the phone and still processing Ayla's room. …There was crime scene tape across her bedroom door, the image like something out of my nightmares. …It felt like it was my fault. I was a CSI, and now my baby's nursery was blocked off with something emblematic of my career.

I paced the room excessively, irritating the people working around me, but I didn't care… I hoped that I had never been so insensitive to a family member during an investigation. …Suspect or not, I was innocent until proven guilty. They ought to treat me like a victim… Finally, I went over to her toys in the living room and pulled a folded blanket from where it rested on the arm of the couch, bringing it to my face and breathing in deeply.

It smelled like Ayla… like her warm, chubby little body… the sweet baby smell mixed with the clean scent of her soap and a hint of something else… green beans, if I wasn't mistaken. …It was her favorite. I found myself laughing through the tears that were seeping into the pink fleece, remembering Jace's disbelieving indignation when she pushed aside the chocolate chip cookie he'd offered her when I'd walked out of the room, choosing instead to finish her giant helping of vegetables. …Oh, my little Ayla.

I felt myself shaking with silent tears, replaying every precious moment in my mind…

_Jace and I sat on either side of her, in the living room that was chaotic with toys. She was sitting squat on her bottom, babbling on and sucking on a plastic giraffe, her dark brown curls wild about her head, her now-brown eyes shining. _

_"Come on baby… 'Da-da!'" He said, enunciating the word he wanted her to repeat. I rolled my eyes. I'd been trying anything I could think of for weeks… she didn't want to talk yet. "Ayla… Ayla, honey." She focused her gaze on him and he grinned, absolute love in every feature. "Da-da!"_

_"Gah…sppplll! Ohhhh! …Guuurmmm!"_

_I giggled. "Ayla…" She turned to look at me. "Ma-ma!"_

_She giggled. "Mmmm! UhbbbbRRRg!"_

_I sighed, tossing my hair off my shoulders—it was tickling me. I lifted my hand to pick off what I thought to be a single strand of hair, because I was still being tickled… and encountered a little body. An ant. Oh god, an ant! I shrieked, leapt to my feet, screaming, "Oh god! A bug! A bug was ON me! Eww! Bug!"_

_Ayla's giggle came in a shriek. "Ohhh! 'Ug! Ug! Baa-ug!" She giggled again, and I forgot about the ant, leveling a bittersweet smile at the small child. …I wanted to tell Gil that her first word had apparently been 'bug.' …She really was his girl. _

"Sara…?" I looked up in surprise at Jace. "…Come on, honey, you haven't eaten since yesterday. …Let me make you a sandwich."

I shook my head, but he nodded. "You know your meds make you sick if you don't take them with food, and you need to take one in…" He glanced at his watch. "Less than five minutes. …Just eat what you can, okay?" I nodded dully, wiping my tears on the blanket and watching him leave the room and burying my face again.

_"Uh-oh!" Ayla said, plopping onto her bottom after having let go of her hold on the coffee table. I giggled. _

_"Uh-oh. Did you fall down?"_

_She narrowed her eyes in determination, twisting her body around until she was on her hands and knees and then reaching up to hold the table and pull herself to her feet again. She walked around the edge, until she was closer to me, and I back up a few feet. "Mama!" She reached a small, chubby little hand out to me. _

_"Come get me, Ayla! Come see Mommy!"_

_"Oh." She frowned. She looked down at her feet and then took a step in my direction, and then another, one hand still holding the edge of the table. "Mama!" She reached her hand to me again. I grinned. _

_"You gotta let go…" I picked up her favorite teddy bear. A butterfly princess bear with colorful wings and a sparkly, fabric tiara. "…Come get Princess…"_

_"Pwin!" She said, her little face crumpling in frustration. She took another step, her hand coming away from the table and I tried to control my reaction. She took another, reaching both hands for the bear. I scooted back again. _

_"Come get her, Ayla… Princess wants to play with you." I danced the bear. Tears welled in her eyes in frustration. _

_"Pwin!" She scowled at me and took three quick steps over to me, like it was no feat at all, snatching the bear and hugging it tight to her chest. "Mine!"_

_I grabbed her around her waist, pressing her to my body. "Oh, you're such a big girl, Ayla!"_

_"Pwin. Mine." She said, giving me a pointed look. I grinned. _

_"Yes, I know. Your Princess Bear." I tickled her and she let out the shriek of a giggle she was famous for._

Jace set the small plate in front of me with a glass of water. "…Where's your prescription bottle? I'll get it for you…"

"My nightstand." I muttered blankly, forcing myself to sit up and eye the turkey sandwich in front of me. I took a bite and though it tasted like sandpaper, I forced myself to chew and swallow before taking a drink of the cool water—the water helped. I felt a little calmer. Jace returned a moment later and passed me the bottle and sat beside me. I glanced at him. "…Not eating?"

"No." He shook his head.

I sighed. "…I'm not hungry either, but we're not going to do her any good wasting away. …We have to force ourselves to keep functioning."

"…I just don't understand. …Gil is so sure that this is my fault. I… don't have any enemies, Sara, really… Who would want to do this to us?"

"I don't know. …It's not your fault, though… No matter what the motive, Jace… you making someone mad or making lots of money or… whatever this is… it doesn't justify this. You know that."

He didn't answer. I sighed. "You want me to make you a sandwich? …You need to eat."

"No. …I need to keep my hands busy. …I might as well make sandwiches for everyone here."

"You could work on the car, if you need to distract yourself from the waiting…"

"…No. …I need to be in here, in case something happens. I… feel closer to her, in here."

"Me too." I said softly, and he nodded and walked into the kitchen.

Simply because I didn't want to feel alone, I carried the blanket, bottle, glass, and plate to the little dining table and slid into my regular spot, opening the orange container and taking my dose before replacing the cover. Another long drink of water helped me calm myself. I wiped at my cheeks in embarrassment, thinking that I was a professional… I shouldn't be hysterical. I should know what to do, in this situation.

I was nearly done forcing down the sandwich when Gil came into the room, glancing around and stopping, once his eyes fell on me. He took a vacant seat beside me. "…How are you holding up?"

I lifted blank eyes to him. "…I'm not."

Jace stepped into the room, "Sandwich, Gil?"

He looked at my husband in surprise, but it seemed that neither man had strength for animosity in this moment… we all just felt drained. "No… I'm not really hungry."

I managed a weak smile. "Neither were we… we already had the 'We have to eat' conversation. Besides… it gives him something to keep his hands busy. …Have a sandwich."

He sighed, nodding softly, and glanced at Jace. "Thank you."

"Turkey?"

"Peanut Butter?"

"Creamy okay?"

"Just fine."

Jace disappeared. I watched Gil run a hand over his beard. "…Cold in Vegas?"

"Hmm?" He looked at me in surprise.

"…You told me that… the reason you didn't have a beard… You said it was too hot in Vegas."

"Oh." He brushed his knuckles self-consciously against the growth. "I've… been working a lot. It's… easier… trimming it once a week instead of shaving every day."

I nodded, watching him. He laid his broad hands flat to the table, palm down, stretching his fingers out. He kept them still for a long moment, and then they were up again, clasped together, and he was looking at me. "…I'm sorry… about what I said… in the car."

My eyes fell on the prescription bottle in front of me. "…You're sorry for attacking me, or for not trusting me?"

I felt his hesitation and glanced up, meeting his eyes and looking away a second later, the intensity a little much for me. We were suddenly talking about far more than just our encounter in the car today.

"…It was my insecurities that made me act that way. …I should know better. You've… never given me a reason to doubt you."

"That's not an answer."

"…Yes, I'm sorry for not trusting you." I sighed, pushing away the final bite of my sandwich, unable to force any more. There was a long moment, and then he picked up the bottle, reading the label and letting the pills rattle from bottom to cover a few times. "…So… why are you on them now?"

I took another drink of the cool water, using it to stall and calm myself. "Post-Partum Depression."

He frowned. "…You never seemed—"

"I was." I snapped. "I even tried to talk to you about it… get your opinion. …You yelled at me for bringing up Jace."

He winced. "I'm… I'm really sorry, Sara."

I sighed, feeling guilty for blaming him… it wasn't his fault that I hadn't told him. How was he supposed to know… he didn't see me every day and I was always so happy to talk to him… "It's fine, Gil. I… It's not your fault."

"…That night…"

I looked up at him, feeling a frown crease my features. "So much for trusting me. …He was rocking her to sleep, Gil. …I was constantly exhausted, not matter how much sleep I got, and I was grateful for the help."

"I do trust you… I… I was wrong, honey. I am sorry… I'm just trying to understand how this happened. It sounded so…"

I closed my eyes, lifting her blanket to my face again, drawing comfort from the lingering scent of green beans. "You know what he was like back then… Would you expect him to answer my phone while I was sleeping and expressly tell you, 'Oh, and don't worry, I'm not in here because anything happened with my wife. I'm reassuring you even though I'm her husband because you're the one she believes she can be intimate with without calling it cheating…'? I mean, really… you couldn't answer one goddamned phone call?"

"I… I was…" He came up short, and I was already out of patience.

"…Please. Don't. I… I don't want to fight about this… I want to find her. …I told you, I don't want him and I certainly don't want you anymore… I just want my baby."

He winced, but nodded and swallowed. "…Will you tell me about her, please?"

I saw the longing in his eyes and felt my anger soften—he still loved her like his own. I felt my heart flutter, betraying the lie I'd just spoken. …But if there was anything I did want to do, it was to talk and think about her. It hurt, but it also made me feel a little better. "…Her first word was 'bug'."

He looked at me in surprise, his eyes wide. I half-smiled. "Yeah, I knew you'd like that… She…" I swallowed, feeling the tears in my eyes again. "…She's just so naturally kind. She loves rocking her babies and… hugging her bear. And… she loves giving kisses and snuggling up in bed with me with a soft blankie. …She has the brightest eyes. They're brown, now, but… they still remind me of you. And… Oh, she has the biggest, cheesiest dimples. …Her smile is open and genuine and her laugh… it's a little shriek, she's so tickled. …She's just started walking a week or so ago… she never cries when she falls down. She just shouts 'Uh-oh!' and then looks around to see if anyone's laughing at her antics…"

I wiped stubbornly at my eyes, feeling her loss more sharply. "She… loves vegetables. Especially green beans. Oh, and puppies… when we go on walks, she reach esher hand out and shrieks to pet them… I wanted to get her a puppy, but…" I trailed off, leaving that unfinished, because the real ending was that I couldn't take a puppy when I ran away with Ayla. I sniffled. "She, uh… she loves dress up. Especially hats… Oh! And she loves the bumble bee song!"

He grinned, no doubt liking the bug references. "…I don't know it."

Without thinking, I was already softly singing the song as if Ayla were there with me to shriek and giggling with me. "I'm bringing home my baby bumble bee! Won't my mommy be so proud of me? I'm bringing home my baby bumble bee! Ouch! It stung me!" I paused to take a breath, finding myself smiling for the first time since my horrifying discovery this morning, and seeing a genuine smile on his face as well. "…I'm squishing up my baby bumble bee! Won't my mommy be so proud of me? I'm squishing up my baby bumble bee! Eww! It's all over me!" I had to fight back a giggle at the frown that had now covered his face. Apparently, he didn't like the second verse. …Ayla would have laughed at his frown. "…I'm wiping off my baby bumble bee! Won't my mommy be so proud of me? I'm wiping off my baby bumble bee! …All clean!"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's a terrible song!"

I smiled, hugging her blanket close to me. "…It's a wonderful song. …It makes her laugh and laugh…" He offered a smile, shaking his head, and a moment of silence crept over us.

Jace stepped out of the kitchen then and I wondered, strangely, if he hadn't been giving us a moment. …That was rather strange. He handed Gil his sandwich and a glass of water and sat down with his own meal. I hugged Ayla's blanket to me, and Jace smiled.

"…Will you keep talking about her, please?"

Gil glanced up and nodded… so while the two ate I described how she'd quack in the bathtub with her ducks and how she'd pushed away Jace's offer of a cookie and how she'd sit and page through her little board books she used to suck on, almost like she was already reading them. I told them about discovering a cricket one day when we were getting food from the freezer in the unfinished basement and her squeal of delight and about a trip to the zoo that left her wide-eyed and uncharacteristically quiet and how she had loved water—bath or pool—since she'd been tiny… saying that I was certain she'd inherited that trait from me.

And even though Jace knew and had heard all of this, and Gil had heard some of it, they watched me in rapt attention, feeling like it made them closer to the little girl who was missing.

The phone rang, and we all leapt out of our seats, hurrying over to where they had recording and tracking equipment set up. When Jace received a nod, he answered it.

"Hello?" I was positively shaking, clutching the blanket to my chest and burying my face down in it to keep from screaming 'Give me my baby back!' from the background.

He sighed softly. "It's my mother… Hey, mom, you got my message…?"

I sighed, gesturing to Gil that we should give him a moment to break the news to Grandma in private. He'd called her this morning, just after I called Gil, to tell her the news, but her cell phone was turned off. He'd left urgent messages everywhere, but apparently she'd only just gotten out of the meeting she'd been in. …She was going to be hysterical when she found out. His dad was in California visiting his sisters, and so Jace had known he wouldn't be able to reach the man until a more reasonable hour. He must have forgotten in the stress of the situation.

I sat down, feeling hopeless now that I'd gotten my hopes up and seen them fall to pieces… at least when he called, we'd have something to go on.

Then Gil's phone rang, and within seconds he was up again. "I'm heading to the lab… they got some results on some prints!"

"I'm coming with you!" I shouted, frantic.

"…You have to stay here to answer the phone."

"…Jace has to stay, to answer the phone and arrange a way for his mother to come… because I know she'll want to be here…I'm going!"

He hesitated only a moment, and then nodded. "Okay… let's go."


	69. Chapter 69

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: And here I thought nobody would know the bumblebee song. :) My one-year olds love it. And it makes me think of Grissom, so...

Hope you enjoy! I'll try to make myself start another chapter tonight!

* * *

Chapter Sixty Nine:

The car ride was quiet. …I wasn't sure what to say to her, and she didn't seem to think there was anything that needed to be said to me.

The thing was… Sara had never told me outright that she didn't want me… not before she got married and not while married. Never. …I knew that part of it was the stress over Ayla missing that was influencing her, but part of it was her anger over my mistakes. …It wouldn't be good to rehash all of that right now, but when we found Ayla… I needed to explain some of my reasons. …I needed to try to get her back. If nothing else, this trip had called the bluff I'd been trying to pull over myself since I stopped talking to her—that I could live without her.

Inside the lab, Mark Foster was waiting for me. A glance at Sara beside me and he groaned. "Ah, hell, Gil, what are you doing?"

"…She's a CSI, and you know you don't believe she's guilty. What's the news on the prints?"

He sighed. "Follow me."

So with a surprised glance between us, Sara and I followed the lab director back through the long hallways, ending in the print lab. "Well, as long as you're here, Mrs. Wendt, maybe you can tell me if you recognize the man… Is there any reason his fingerprints should be in Ayla's room?"

I frowned—his tone implied that he thought the man might be one of Sara's lovers. Whether she'd had an affair with me or not, she was not a promiscuous woman. I knew that… I had always known that, but just the thought… I'd been so afraid…

Sara, however, didn't seem fazed. She rolled her eyes and bent down to look closely at the computer screen, her mouth already opening to tell him that no, she did not know the man and why wasn't he already in custody… but she gasped instead. "Oh my god! I do know him! Jace hired him to paint the outside of the house and stain the decks… a week or two ago?"

Mark nodded. "Was Ayla's window open while he painted… could he have braced his hand against the frame?"

"I… I don't know. It's… possible. During that same time I pulled all the screens off to scrub them down, because if the outside of the house was going to look so fresh and nice, I didn't want dusty screens ruining it… I went and scrubbed all the windows outside a few days after he finished…"

"Well, we've already sent a team to his house with a warrant, so I guess we'll see what he has to say…"

I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't believe for a minute that his prints would still be there two weeks later the way that Sara cleaned. He'd obviously scoped the house and realized that from Jace's vehicles and private driver, they made a hell of a lot more money than the house implied… he figured he'd take the baby, Jace would pay up, and he'd give her back… no harm, no foul. …He hadn't expected Sara to freak and call the police, and he probably hadn't expected them to respond in full force the way they had.

…Then I looked more closely at the suspect in question.

I glanced at the man in question—Joseph Biani. He looked… non-descript. A Caucasian male in his mid-thirties. His prints weren't even on file for a previous crime… He'd worked in the Mayor's Office filing documents. They apparently required fingerprints and a background check with an application. I frowned. "Sara… Maybe you should listen to the undistorted voice on the ransom tape… see if it's him. He just… people don't usually jump to kidnapping as a first offense." I frowned at the man's picture. Something didn't feel right.

Sara glanced between me and Mark, and Mark sighed in exasperation. "Why not? We've crossed every other line, today, haven't we?" He threw his hands in the arm, but led the way back to the AV lab anyway. We followed him out again, and this time I took Sara's hand.

"…Are you okay?"

She nodded, shakily, and kept her hand in mine. "Yeah… I just… I can't believe this. I remember talking to him… thinking 'What a nice guy…' I… I just don't… Why would he do this to us?"

I frowned. I didn't think he had… or, if he had, he was the voice on the recording, not the sound in the background. He was the hired help… but even that seemed wrong. Why does a respectable guy with no priors who worked for the Mayor's Office for years suddenly agree to kidnap a baby? …The question is usually in the answer: He doesn't. Not out of the blue.

"…Let's just see what you hear, okay?"

She squeezed my hand, nodding meekly, and I squeezed it back, happy to be offering some small amount of comfort to her finally. I needed to give it as much as she needed to receive it…

The same AV tech was there and when Mark had him play the message, tears filled Sara's eyes. "…That's him. …It is. Oh god! I… gave the guy lemonade! I… I was so worried about how hot it was outside and…" She blinked furiously, hugging her arms tightly to her chest. "…But we've got him now! We've got his ass and we'll have Ayla home soon!"

I laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder, not wanting her to get her hopes up only to have them crushed. "…Honey, listen to me…" She turned and looked at me, her eyes not comprehending why there was no sign of victory in mine. "…This man… he's not the mastermind. All you have to do is listen to the way his voice is shaking to know that. …Even if they find him, Sara… chances are that Ayla isn't with him anymore."

The tears welled up again. "What… why are you saying this? We've almost found her, Gil! Why don't you want her to be found?"

I frowned, framing her face in my palms. "Sara… honey, you have to calm down. …You're a CSI. …You're a damn good one. Right?"

She drew in a deep breath, swallowing and nodding. "R-right."

"…Listen to his voice. …He's nervous, trembling… he might be an accomplice, but he isn't our guy…"

The AV tech in the backwards baseball cap was apparently listening, because the undoctored voice played in our headphones at that moment. …She heard it too, and understanding dawned in her eyes at the same time as remorse. "So… we're not any closer to finding her."

"That's not true… When they bring him in, he can give us some information. …My gut tells me he isn't doing this freely. We can offer him protection to give up his boss… something." I stared into her eyes, trying to give her all the strength and reassurance I had and picked up the almost imperceptible increase in her breathing at the intensity of our gazes. I opened my mouth without knowing what I intended to say—I love you, I'm sorry, I'm a fucking idiot…

"Do you want her to hear the noise?" The AV tech asked, bringing both of us back to the moment with a little surprise. Our eyes averted, the gaze broken, and my hands slid from her face.

"Yeah… Go ahead."

He played it looped again, and though Sara's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward in her seat, eagerly willing her mind to identify the _ffpt! click. _After a long minute, though, she sat back and shook her head. "…I don't know… I feel like I should. Like it's a common sound, but…"

I nodded. "I thought the same thing…"

Her phone rang then and she cursed softly, pulling it out. "It's Jace…" She pulled off her headphones and flipped the device open, standing up and moving into the hallway to answer it. "…Hello?" The door closed behind her, blocking the rest of the conversation. Mark turned to me, apparently not caring that baseball-cap-wearing-AV-tech was privy to his words.

"…Affair's over, huh?"

I looked at him. "…Just because it's over doesn't mean it should be. …It's hardly the time to have a talk about what tore us apart…"

He shook his head. "If I find out you've been fucking me around, Gil, I'm not taking the fall for your involvement… Everything will fall on you."

I rolled my eyes, standing up and moving to leave the room. "Dually noted."

I slid into the hall as she was hanging up. She glanced at me with a frown on her face. "…Things are about to get complicated."

"Why?" I let a hand fall onto the small of her back, guiding her down the hall, away from the labs and the prying eyes and ears.

"Jace's mom wanted to fly out right away. Thankfully his new company has a massive board of directors—they've got private jets all over the country they were willing to sacrifice for this. …She had to drive into New York—they live outside the city—to be able to catch a flight… but apparently she'll be here in a little over an hour."

"Does she know about me?"

Sara snorted. "No. She doesn't know anything. Jace won't tell her because he knows she'd be disappointed in him, but I haven't either, because no matter how much she might disapprove, she's always going to side with him. …None of his family members could be considered allies…"

I frowned. "So… we're going to have some explaining to do?"

She shook her head. "The bitch can go fuck herself. I'm really not up to explaining myself to her when Ayla's missing… Maybe I'll care what the old hag thinks once she's home safely, but…"

I nodded. She sighed. "Jace is getting impatient… he wants me to come back to be available to answer the phone so he can try to come up with the money. Just in case."

I frowned, but the truth was that it couldn't hurt to leave that option open. "Okay… Do you… do you mind if I stay here? I… I want to watch the interrogation."

"Yeah. Of course. …I want you to make sure they don't miss anything. …Make any deal you have to to get Ayla home to me."

"I will." I promised. "…Let me walk you out to the car."

She nodded and we turned, but didn't get any farther—Mark yelled down the hall. "Gil!" I turned in time to see him rushing over to me, cell phone in hand. "They found Joseph Biani…"

I heard Sara gasp as my breath caught in my throat. "Are they bringing him in?"

He swallowed. "…No. He, uh… he's been murdered. …We've got a team heading to the scene now. Do you want to go?"

I hesitated and glanced at Sara, who was looking at Mark. "…If he was cooperating under duress… You find who killed him, you find who has Ayla…"

He nodded. "…That's our hope."

I shook my head. "I'm going to go with Sara—whoever this is, he's too smart to have left something behind. …Your guys can process… I want to be there when he calls to give us the drop off site."

He nodded, turning without another word, and Sara and I simply exchanged a glance and moved to head out the doors. She moved closer to me and I closed the gap between us, putting an arm around her to offer comfort. She sighed. "…God, I could go for a smoke right now."

I frowned, glancing down at her. "I didn't think you still smoked…"

She shook her head. "I haven't for years… I don't know what it is. Even when I thought I was going crazy, I didn't want one this bad… but, you know, losing her is a lot more stressful than the thought of losing my mind…"

I nodded, opening the back seat and guiding her in before moving inside with her, staying close to her side, while she told the driver to take us back to the house, please. I sighed heavily and she glanced up at me, looking so very tired… like she was only a moment from collapse, keeping herself going by sheer will alone. "So…" Her voice was tired too… weak. "Are you ready to meet my mother in law?"

I offered a false half-smile in return, matching hers, both of us aware that we were only putting up the front because it was necessary. If you acknowledged how hopeless you felt… if you addressed the fact that the other person didn't really believe the smiles you were forcing for their sake… you would simply despair. You would lose all hope and completely fall apart. ...For Ayla, we had to keep it together, so we faked optimism, pressing up against each other in the back seat, despite the heat of the day, seeking comfort.


	70. Chapter 70

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Jelly... I think you said earlier that my readers were on angst overload? ...In that case, I apologize ahead of time for this chapter. :)

Btw, I love, love, love hearing you guys speculate on who did it and why and what it all means... :) Pleeease keep it up!

Oh, and because I've had several reviewers mention that my Sara and Grissom are OOC, even if I think it's only slightly so, I know others respectfully disagree sooo... I'll go add that to the story description. :) Better?

Enjoy!

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Chapter Seventy:

Jace called us again, on the drive home… he was taking all the money we had in savings, which was rather a lot—since we'd moved to Boston, I had mostly avoided the man except when we were both with Ayla. I no longer told him what to do with his excessive salary—but it was nowhere near ten million. He said he thought it might be just under one, all combined…

He was going to the bank to get as big a loan as he could, and then he was going to meet with the CEO of his company, to see if the man would loan him the rest of the remaining dollars. He was fairly sure he would, it was just a matter of finding the right bargaining chip—calling it an advance of wages or Jace's bonuses for the next ten years or promising to pay it back with twenty percent interest… but whatever it took, he was going to get the money.

This reassured me, a little—if whoever had my baby was really a professional, or at least someone with enough influence to make it look like a professional job, then paying the ransom might be the only way to get her back. …Hell, if that was the only way, I'd work for defense attorneys defending big criminals to point out mistakes made in the labs prosecuting them, simply to pay back the debt. …It was against anything I'd ever believed, but nothing mattered more than my little girl.

When we came back, Jace was heading out the door, anxious to have the money by midnight. He had time to tell me that he'd sent a driver to pick up his mother and that she'd be arriving at the house sometime in the next hour. He rushed out, and Gil and I stepped tentatively in. The living room was full of tech equipment around the phone I was supposed to answer should our kidnapper call. I had someone drag me over, explaining what I should or should not say, to try to keep the guy talking when he did call.

When they finally let me go, Gil was nowhere to be seen. I took the pink fleece blanket from the dining table where I had held it previously and forgotten it in the rush to get to the lab. Cradling it against my chest, I moved down the hallway, my heart hammering in my chest as I neared Ayla's room, suspecting I would find him there. When I glanced past the yellow Crime Scene tape, however, I found the room pristine. Her blanket and teddy bear were gone… they must have been taken as evidence. They had been points of disturbance, after all.

…When we got her back tonight, she would want her Princess Bear. I felt tears pressing against my eyes that I wouldn't be able to give her everything she'd asked for after her terrible ordeal. I turned away from her room, my eyes falling on my own across the hall. Gil was sitting on my bed, a picture frame cradled in his hands, not bothering to wipe the stray tear from his weathered cheeks as it slid slowly into his beard.

I stepped in, clutching her blanket closer to me for security's sake, and sat beside him. He must have heard me long before I came in, because he did not glance up when I did. The picture in his hand was of Ayla in the park. She was wearing a little blue dress and white sandals, sitting in the sand. Her dress had ridden up, her diaper sticking out, and her halo of curls was wind-swept around her chubby, happy, dimpled little face. She had darker skin than either Gil or I—the Italian in Jace coming out, making her look perpetually sun-kissed. But it was the smile on her face, I knew, that had Gil weeping… She was the picture of innocence with her pink little lips and mouth revealing the teeth she had already, the cheesy grin betraying no sense of impending doom… no inkling that she knew what the world had in store for her… the someone so menacing could even exist.

It was beyond her.

I felt the tears in my eyes took and impulsively I let her blanket fall to my knees and wrapped my arms around him, knowing that his grief was my own and trying to put the past behind us. No matter how he'd hurt me, his loss in this moment was as great as mine… it would be petty to hold it against him while he sat and cried. I held his shoulders tightly, our chests flush together, my cheek brushing against his scratchy, whiskered one, the bow of his glasses pressing in to the side of my head.

After a long moment, his head pulled back a little, as if in surprise, and his gruff voice came beside my ear, "…Sara?" It was uncertain… questioning. I pulled back.

"What?"

His eyes flickered down to my chest, and I followed… "Oh god!" I jumped up. I was leaking through my nursing bra. It hadn't even occurred to me that she hadn't nursed all day, because she'd be needing to less and less now that she was eating table foods. I'd been planning to wean her when she turned a year and started milk… "Shit!" I wailed, feeling like this was just one more straw on this camel's wavering back. "I… I'm sorry, Gil. I didn't even realize…"

I moved over to my dresser, pulling out a clean bra. "She's been on table food so she doesn't nurse nearly as often and," I pulled out a clean shirt, setting both items on my dresser, my back to him. "It just didn't occur to me." I pulled my shirt over my head and felt my heart rate pick up as something else occurred to me. "…They've got to be feeding her, right?" I unsnapped my bra, sliding it down my arms, and picked up the clean one, "I mean, having her all day… they would give her something to eat, wouldn't they?" I snapped the new one into place, picking up my t-shirt. "Even if I can't nurse her, she's eleven months… if they gave her milk, she'd be fine. …She's not a picky eater… she'd eat what they gave her, right?" I turned as I was pulling the shirt the rest of the way over my stomach.

"Right?" I asked him, desperate for some reassurance that when—not if, when—we got her back, she wouldn't be starving and dehydrated.

He had his mouth open, staring at me, and I blinked in confusion. What?

The phone rang then, interrupting my thoughts, and we both sprinted out to the living room to the phone I was supposed to answer. I put my hand on it, while the man running held up a finger, telling me to wait for one more ring… and then he gave me the go ahead. I swallowed hard, my stomach feeling like an empty pit… like it was gnawing on itself, consuming me from the inside out.

"H-hello?" My voice was shaking.

"Mrs. Wendt?" The voice asked. It was altered, so I couldn't tell anything but that it was male… probably.

"Y-yes." Gil took my trembling hand in his and I gripped the phone with a sweaty palm.

"I know you've involved the police… not very smart." _ppft! click. _"Tell your husband I will tell him, and only him, the location for the money to be paid… and if he comes with the police, your daughter dies." _ppft! click_.

I swallowed convulsively. "How… how do we know she's still alive?"

"…Would you like to speak to her, Mrs. Wendt?" _ppft! click_.

Tears fell down my face. "Y-yes. Yes!"

There was a strange muffled sound and some shifting of the phone, and then I heard crying. Ayla's cry—I would know it anywhere. A second later, it was close enough to indicate that the phone was up to her ear.

"Ayla! Ayla baby, it's Mommy!"

A pitiful whimper, "Mama?" Then she wailed.

"Ayla! Mommy's coming! You'll be home soon! I promise! I love you, Ayla!" I was crying and screaming into the phone, and when the man spoke, the distortion was back.

"…Tell him." _ppft! click_. And then he had hung up.

Shaking, I let the phone fall back on the receiver, and fell into Gil's arms, sobbing. "She's alive… she's alive and she's scared, Gil, she sounded so frightened!"

His arms wrapped around me, holding me tight, keeping me in one piece while I dissolved. He spoke over the top of my head when my sobs were slightly quieter. "…They were on for a long time. Were you able to track the signal?"

I glanced up. The man he was talking to—the same one who'd directed me when to answer the phone—had a cell phone to his ear. He was nodding. "Yeah, they're tracking it… we've got unis on the way."

He nodded, against the top of my head, and I hiccupped, hope bubbling up in me unexpectedly. Maybe this guy wasn't as good as we'd thought… maybe I'd have Ayla in my arms within the hour… I let myself feel elated. Science always won… I knew that. They were going to catch this son of a bitch and this nightmare would be over.

I hugged Gil desperately, tightly, needing to feel something solid to hold on to until the good news was delivered and I could have Ayla in my arms. He tensed, not when I hugged him, but a moment later… which caused me to look up in surprise again. The man was shaking his head.

"…Phone is still turned on in a garbage can in a park… We've got guys canvassing the area, but a woman at the scene said she saw a black car speeding away from the area only about a minute ago… We don't have video surveillance there, but we're hoping to catch it speeding away from the area on traffic cams…"

I felt the hope fly out of me. I felt tiny… like I'd lost several feet of my height. Gil saw the look on my face and cupped my cheek, turning my eyes back to his. "Hey… this is better than we had, Sara. The woman will give us description, we'll find the car on video surveillance, get a license number and a general direction… and from there we can figure out who this asshole is and where he's taking her… Okay? We're getting closer…"

I drew in a deep breath, nodding, wanting to scream out 'But she doesn't have her car seat!' and refraining, because I knew that that was the least of my worries at this point. I leaned my face into his hand and stepped close again, keeping my body in contact with his, taking in his warmth to keep me going. Keep me functioning and standing and breathing.

"…What's going on here?"

Once again, I lifted my head from Gil to look… My mother in law was standing in the doorway of the kitchen and dining room, staring at the flurry of activity surrounding Gil's and I's still and silent moment of despair. Gil had tensed as soon as he saw her too, and I knew he was uncomfortable. I swallowed, trying to come up with something to say… unable to find myself even concerned that she was watching me in the arms of a man who was not her son, but still feeling like I had to respond in some way…

I didn't have to—Gil did it for me. His tensed body released mine in shock and his eyes were wide and staring. His words though… they sent my world spinning.

"…Susan?"


	71. Chapter 71

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: For those worried, Grissom is not Jace's father. Remember Jace said his mom left them for a while when he was 11? ...Jace is only like eight years younger than Grissom. More than likely, Grissom couldn't produce children at that age. :)

Tell me what you think! Also, just so you know, Grissom's memory in this one is a little dark... I kept it tame, because it upset me just to write it, but... fair warning.

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Chapter Seventy One:

"…Gil?"

I shook my head. …I absolutely could not deal with this right now. This was… twisted. Sara managed words again before I did. "…Your name is Anne… Not Susan." A glance at her told me that she wasn't handling this turns of events any better than I was. Despite being unable to string words together, I managed to guide her to sit down before she fainted.

Susan cleared her throat. "Suzanna, actually. Richard has always called me 'Anne'." Richard, I knew from my relationship with the woman, was her ex-husband. …Though, I had been under the impression that Jace's parents had never divorced.

"You lied to me."

She turned a surprised gaze on me. I tried to determine her age—I had been nineteen when we started our affair, and she had been thirty-eight—I was now forty-four, which would make her sixty three. No, sixty four—her birthday was in spring. But she looked younger than that… her hair was still brown, though she might be dying it, and her eyes were bright green, just as I remembered them. Another quick bit of math—I knew Jace was eight years younger than me, because it was a fact that had haunted my insecure mind during the past half year I'd spent not talking to Sara. Which meant that when I had met her, Jace had been eleven. …That certainly shed some light on his crazy determination to keep his 'family' together. "…Excuse me?"

"…You told me you were divorced."

Her mouth fell open, and then closed. Finally, she huffed, "…What are you even doing here?"

I hesitated, for a moment, but the irony of the situation was overwhelming. "…I'm in love with your son's wife, actually. …Apparently I have a thing for married women." I snapped, my head starting to pound, though it was unsurprising—I had simply been waiting for the migraine to start. At least it was minor, so far.

"…I need to sit down." She said, moving to sit at the table beside Sara, who looked positively alarmed at the prospect of her mother-in-law and my former lover being the same person and coming closer to her. She stood up in alarm.

"…When did my life become a fucking soap opera?" She demanded, and I reached out to her, wanting to take her in my arms and somehow soothe her, despite my own mind still reeling from the discovery… but she backed away from my attempts as well. "I just… I need a minute… alone." She dashed off towards her bedroom and I sighed heavily, watching her go.

Susan turned to me. "...Does my son know?"

I raised an eyebrow. "…About you and I or Sara and I?"

"Either."

"…He doesn't know about you and I, because I had no idea that he was… that you were… Oh my god, how did I not see this? He's just as controlling and manipulative as you were!"

She turned her angry gaze on me. "And you're any better? …Is Sara only the second married woman you've slept with, or were there others between us?"

I blinked in surprise and took a step back. "…Are you kidding me? You… You lied to me, seduced me, used me… and you're throwing it in my face that _you_ were married?"

"You couldn't have had as many qualms with it as you're implying… you're in my son's home banging his wife while his child is missing… so much for the good catholic school boy I left behind."

It took everything in me not to scream, to lose my temper, to take a knick knack off the wall and fling it at the floor. Instead, I stormed past her, out of the front of the house, to sit on the curb on the end of the street. I had never in my life shown violence towards a woman and I wasn't going to start now, in Sara's home, while Ayla was missing. I glanced around me—it was still light outside, despite evening approaching, because it was summer. Still, it was the time of day when the sun is lower in the sky and the light not so direct… and I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

The fact of the matter was that I was a grown man in my forties, not a young man, barely out of adolescence. So I shouldn't feel so vulnerable being confronted with this woman from my past, but I did… I had been shaking when I was in the room with her, whatever calm I had expressed a ruse. A large part of me simply wanted to run away from this situation, because it was a little too screwed up for me to process… but the larger part of me needed to see Ayla safe at home, so I would once again choose to stay in a situation in which I felt vulnerable and powerless.

I swallowed hard, looking at the concrete beneath my shoes, my head spinning with old moments.

_I knocked on her office door, only half-pretending to be nervous. I was always a little nervous when I came here, and not just because we could get caught… She made me nervous. I swallowed convulsively when I heard her sharp reply, "Come in." …The harsh tone instead of the welcoming purr that I had on occasion been privilege to told me that she was not in the mood to be the teacher with whom something spontaneously occurred… she was playing her usual role of the teacher who took control. _

_Even as my heart was pounding and my palms were sweating, I felt myself getting hard just thinking about it. I didn't understand the effect she had on me, but I was hopelessly in love with her, head over heels… and if this is what she enjoyed, I was happy to oblige. _

_I turned the knob quickly, knowing it would be worse if I made her wait on me, and slipped inside. "Professor Slade…"_

_My heart pounded harder as she snapped a ruler against her desk—she was wearing a fitted black skirt that was knee length but had dramatic slits up the sides, revealing the top of thigh high stockings, and a very tight red button up blouse. "Gil Grissom… I'm surprised to see you in my office. …I missed you in class this week."_

_I swallowed—of course I had been in class every day… I never skipped class—but she was playing the game, and so was I. I hiked my backpack on my back. "I… was hoping I could make up for my absences… do some extra credit…"_

_She walked around her desk and I took in the woman who had been my consistent lover and sexual educator for several months—although thirty nine, the woman looked like she was just pushing thirty. She had a beautiful face, gorgeous body, and the things she did to me… "I don't give extra credit. …You know that, Mr. Grissom. If you want to do well in my class, I expect you to attend consistently, do your homework, and study…"_

_"I will. I… I want to. I just… I've had some personal stuff going on." I said, because I knew that if she was saying no to extra credit, she wanted me to convince her with some added vulnerability. I don't know how I'd learned all her little cues so quickly… but I'd always been a good student. _

_"Oh?" She was now in front of her desk… she slid up onto it and gestured for me to take the seat in front of the desk, which would put me inches from her long, smooth legs, the slit on her skirt all too visible. _

_I sat down, nodding. "My… girlfriend just broke up with me and… I found out my scholarship is being discontinued next semester. It's been a tough week but… I really need this grade so I can apply for more aid…"_

_"Mmm…" She purred, sliding down. "…So it sounds like… you'd take just about any assignment to make up the time you've missed… We had a pop quiz today. It will take quite a lot." She shook her long hair so that it fell in a cascade over the back of her shoulders as she arched her back, making the fabric on her shirt stretch, tiny holes between the buttons over her breasts telling me she was wearing black lingerie. _

_I was starting to feel dizzy with how much I wanted her, but I knew I wasn't allowed to ask for her… she was in charge. …She was always in charge. "…I'll do anything to save my grade. …Anything!"_

_"…Are you sure about that?" She asked, and the trace of delight in her voice over the power she was getting ready to exhibit sent chills through me, simultaneously frightening and arousing. I squirmed in my seat. _

_"Absolutely."_

_"…Then lock the door."_

_I got up quickly, suddenly uncomfortable in my jeans, and locked the door to her office, despite the rest of the building being dark and deserted. I turned back to her. "…What do you want me to do?"_

_"…Are you a virgin, Gil?"_

_I blinked. If she asked the question that way, the only correct answer was yes. But there was more to it than that… she wanted something more. I cleared my throat, taking a step back towards her. "I, uh… I'm not sure… if we should be discussing…this."_

_Her lips curved into a smile. "…Oh, Gil, are you embarrassed…? There's no reason to be ashamed of being a good boy…" Ah, there it was. She wanted me to be a virgin because I was something innocent for her to taint. Other times it had been for other reasons… and other times she had not cared whether I said I was or I wasn't. But tonight…_

_"I, uh… I'm catholic, Professor. …It's a mortal sin to have sex out of marriage."_

_She grinned—I had said something she liked. Probably because it was fairly close to the truth… when we'd had our first encounter, she'd been married… after the fact, I told her it couldn't happen again because I was Catholic. "…Well… how badly do you want to pass this class, Mr. Grissom?"_

_I swallowed again. "…Badly. Desperately, Professor. I… I will do anything, just like I said…"_

_She slid back up on her desk and spread her legs, resting one high-heeled foot on each of the chairs before her, one of which I'd just been sitting in. At the apex was a scrap of black lace. She leaned back, one hand bracing her against the desk and the other slowly unbuttoning her blouse. "…On your knees, then, Mr. Grissom…"_

_I moved over to her, feeling a mixture of shame and submission battling with the excitement of being directed to pleasure her…I moved to my knees between her creamy thighs, inhaling and feeling the strain against my jeans increase. …I would never be sure why this gorgeous woman had chosen a skinny, unattractive, nerd like me… but if this is what it took to keep her around… I moved to press my mouth to her, but the ruler snapped against her desk again and I jumped. _

_"…Did I tell you that you could touch me?"_

_Shit. "N-no, ma'am."_

_"Stand up."_

_I did and she slid down again, unbuttoning my pants aggressively and sliding them and my tighty-whities down with them. I was trembling even though I knew she would most likely only tease me… for hours, she would go back and forth between bringing me to the brink while not allowing me release upon threat of punishment—the ruler was not simply a prop—and having me make her come. Her hand reached out for me and I was dreading it as much as I was anticipating it. _

"Gil?" Sara's hand fell on my shoulder and I jumped about a foot.

"Oh, Jesus, Sara, you scared the hell out of me…" I realized with irritation that I was not only trembling in my memory but her on the curb outside her home.

"…I'm sorry. …I… Gil, I shouldn't have reacted that way. …I know what she did to you, and it wasn't your fault. …and I know it's not easy for you to be around her, now."

I nodded, not meeting her eyes—how could I? She knew that the woman had wanted me because she liked my innocence and got off on control… but if Sara had any idea how severely the woman had degraded me… I was still ashamed. I couldn't stand for Sara to know that. It had taken me years and years to think of sex in a normal way after her… to not expect pain and control and manipulation and shame. …It wasn't that I didn't understand what we'd done… the fetishes and the role playing… by all means, consenting adults in their own homes had the right to do whatever they wanted.

But I hadn't been consenting—not really. I was all but a child… I'd never had any social interaction in high school. On a purely social/emotional basis, I was probably still sixteen. And that, I knew, was why she'd picked the skinny, unattractive nerd. ...She'd seen my vulnerability, and sought to exploit it, apparently while lying about being divorced.

"…I'm not going anywhere. Ayla needs me." I said, because it was the only response I thought I could manage. Sara slipped her hand into mine, squeezing gently.

"…She's not going to tell Jace. If you want me to keep it from him as well…" I nodded, and so did she. "…Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I said. It was taking all my strength simply to not shake while she was close enough to notice. She nodded again, and tugged on my arm.

"I… have to go inside… in case the phone rings again. Come with me."

"No."

"…I sent her away, Gil. …But she's going to cross paths with you either way… stay with me, please? I won't let her hurt you."

"Jesus Christ, Sara, I'm a grown man. I'm not afraid of her." I snapped, irritated that once again I was wearing my weakness on my sleeve. She frowned, but nodded.

"Okay… I hate the woman, and I'd rather not be alone with her. …Will you please come in, for me, while she's leaving?"

I looked off to one side, aware of what she was doing but also not wanting to sit out here alone, waiting for the woman to come out to either take a car or get into a cab to leave… I took the out she gave me. "…Well, if you need me…"

"I do!" She insisted, grateful, and jumped to her feet, offering me her hand. I ignored it, standing up myself, needing to show that I was not weak in any way, and she let her hand drop, frowning again but still moving to walk close to my side as we headed back to the house. I knew what I was doing and so did she… but I couldn't seem to help it, and I was grateful that she wasn't holding it against me.


	72. Chapter 72

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay in posting, my modem/router died and I just got internet back tonight. ...I rewrote this chapter a few times, so I hope it works well... Let me know what you think. :)

Thanks, as always, for the lovely reviews!

* * *

Chapter Seventy Two:

We stood to move inside, and my phone rang—Jace was on his way home, with the money. He'd managed to collect an entire ten million in cash, thanks in no small part to his generous boss. So we waited outside, knowing that Jace would want to see his mother and would no doubt question why she wasn't there—and I knew Gil didn't want Jace knowing what had taken place between them. …I felt a stab of sympathy—I'd always known the woman was controlling, but the look in Gil's eyes when he'd described her, back on the cruise ship… he'd said that she liked to make him pretend to be a student who was earning a grade… and I had seen nothing but shame and self-deprecation in his features.

When Jace arrived carrying two large briefcases, I felt like had to be something out of a movie… things like this just didn't happen in real life.

We moved inside, following him, but I couldn't even look his mother in the eye when she hugged him tightly and asked how he was holding up. I hadn't liked her before this, but now that I knew what she was capable of… now that I had seen first-hand what she had done to Gil…

Jace spoke frantically to his mother for a few moments, gaining information—his dad had been on the West Coast visiting his sisters in San Francisco and despite the size and apparent generosity of Jace's company, they had not had a private jet in San Francisco, so his family was getting on a flight tonight… expected to arrive first thing in the morning. I waited to see if she would point out that she knew Gil… or even ask who the man holding his wife's hand was, to feign innocence and ignorance, but it didn't come. She was afraid of Jace finding out too.

Once they'd exhausted their conversation, Jace seemed to want to do two things—get updates from Gil and I, and pace beside the phone. Gil went first, telling him patiently about the strange sound and the suspicion he'd had that the first caller was not in fact the mastermind… he walked him through fingerprints and finding the man dead in his home. Jace looked positively frightened at this news, so I rushed to tell him that I had talked to Ayla… that was alive but scared and upset. …And that the kidnapper had insisted he would only speak to Jace. From that point on, Jace refused to move more than five feet from the phone he was supposed to answer when the man would call again… and that was one positive thing—they seemed confident that he would call again.

Gil and I sat at the table, and I brought out a photo album I already had filled with pictures of Ayla, thinking that I might distract him from the woman from his past lingering in the room by having him look forward… to the little girl who he would seeing in a few short hours. …The little girl who, after today, would never ever see her twisted, sick, manipulative grandmother ever again. It made me sick just to think that I had let the woman hold her.

I slowly turned the pages, describing the moment and how she had reacted and what had been said or done, and watched the creases on his face slowly ebb in favor of a reluctant smile that was growing with each dimpled grin. …I found myself extremely grateful that Ayla looked so much like me, because if he saw that horrible woman in her, it might not be the same… And what I was seeing in the change that came over him was that Ayla could cure him of Susan. Her goodness and sweetness was greater than the poison her grandmother had inflicted on him.

And we were fine… I knew that Jace was listening to me talk about her, just as he had been before, because I would catch him smiling wistfully when I told funny stories. We were three parents who had lost their daughter… Gil and Jace might not have liked each other, but there was at least a temporary truce in place. It was her fault that everything that had been holding steady as evening drifted into night suddenly flew to pieces.

She sat at the table, beside Gil, and I saw the knowing curve of her lips when Gil tensed at her presence. "So, Gil… why is it that you're here? You work with the police?" She had obviously listened when he was telling Jace where the lab was right now. I glanced between her and Jace—he was frowning at her, momentarily distracted from his pacing fervor. Jace didn't want his mother to know that our marriage was a lie, Gil didn't want Jace to know that he'd had a relationship with his mother, I didn't want a physical fight to break out between two men who ought to have the same goal in mind—finding Ayla—and Anne—Susan—wanted to dangle both of the men in my life by strings.

She was simultaneously manipulating both of them and I wondered why—she loved Ayla. Why distract from the problem at hand? …Was she simply trying to find a way to deal with her own stress by provoking others? By provoking me specifically, because I had an investment in both of the men she was twisting in her coils? To what point and purpose? …No, that much was clear, even if her motivations weren't. She had never thought I was a worthy daughter-in-law for her son and I was the woman Gil had told her he was in love with—I had replaced her in his heart. In the same way that Jace would see Gil as doubly a home wrecker if he knew, this woman saw me as twice the threat over the control she had always exhibited over the men in her life.

Jace had refused to cut his hair for our wedding… prior to that, he'd always given in when she'd insisted he cut it for a special event. There were a myriad of other examples, since then, but this one served—the moment he started a life with me was the moment he refused to let her dictate the details of his life. …Maybe it was that I'd never had a functional family, but I couldn't believe that it hadn't occurred to me sooner how strange a relationship she had with Jace… how strange their entire family dynamic was. And Gil… Gil was no longer willing to beg her to let him… do whatever it was she liked… for a grade or for her acceptance or her love… for whatever it was she offered him that was so precious he allowed himself to be degraded in order to receive it.

Gil looked up from the photo album of Ayla, meeting the woman's eyes with steel in his own. "I'm a forensic scientist. …I'm here to help find Ayla."

She quirked an eyebrow and tilted her head and for a moment, I saw the woman she had been when Gil had known her—without the lines around her eyes and mouth or the streaks of gray in her dying brown hair… I saw the powerful, self-indulgent, passionate and controlling woman who had leaned over a dissecting pan to capture his lips and his heart, and who had invited him to her office to educate him in submission to her twisted fetishes. I saw easily how a young man could get swept up in the confidence and beauty and power she represented… and saw her bringing it out again, to torment him.

"Oh? …Is that why you're holding my daughter-in-law's hand instead of doing something useful…?"

To my great surprise, Jace spoke up before either Gil or I, though we had both opened our mouths to retort. "Mom, that's enough. Gil is helping. …Anything else doesn't matter until she's home."

And then she was back to being the woman I had always seen… an older, nit-picky, harmless woman who nevertheless made my life miserable when she was around… but who was not often around. I looked over at Jace gratefully, and he gave me a curt nod before going back to pacing.

The woman scoffed and picked up the remote, turning on the television, claiming that it certainly couldn't hurt to hear what they were saying about Ayla… maybe it would even help our _genius scientist_ put _something_ together.

Gil's phone rang as she was doing so and he broke my grasp to pull it from his pocket—before silencing it and placing it back in his pocket. I frowned and raised a questioning eyebrow, and he shook his head.

He paged through her photo album again, but I turned my eyes to the television, seeking some moment of solace… some temporary relief from the exhausting, unbearable stress of this horrible, unending day. It was the local news—

_"…Ayla Wendt, the eleven month old who was taken from her bedroom between midnight and four am this morning, is still missing. Amber Alerts have been issued across the state, but as time goes on, we're forced to wonder whether this is still a rescue mission, or if it will quickly turn into a 'recovery' mission. Authorities offered no comment but…"_

She was wrong. It absolutely hurt.

Gil frowned and got up, pushing the channel button down, putting up on a national news station instead. He plopped back down, with the news in the background, and took my hand again. And once again, his phone rang—I watched again with mindless politics in the background while he pulled the device out, glanced at the screen, and this time flipped it open. "Grissom."

I watched with bated breath while he took in information, nodding and saying 'Okay' more times than I could possibly bear before he hung up and caught both my eyes and Jace's before speaking. "…They've finished processing the suspect's home."

I leaned forward, squeezing his hand hopefully—sure, the man was dead, but there had to be something… some clue… something to indicate who was behind all of this… who had my baby girl. He shook his head slowly, trying to prevent me getting my hopes up right away, but he's already too late. I sigh, and he forges on anyway. "There's no 'smoking gun,' per se. He had a lot of phone calls from many different disposable cell numbers… they're in the process of trying to track down all the different places the phones were purchased from and get their surveillance video… no real names attached to any of the phones."

"So there's hope." I insisted, and he twisted his lips.

"…Sara, honey…" He was going to tell me it was a long shot, but changed his mind half-way through. "…Yes, there's hope."

And even though I knew it hadn't been what he'd intended to say immediately, his words had the desired effect—coming from him, I did feel comforted and hopeful. …There was no way he could avoid detection from multiple cameras in multiple stores.

"The other thing is the audio from when he called you…"

"Did they figure out what that sound was?"

"What sound?" Jace interjected, jarring us both back to the reality that we weren't alone.

Gil cleared his throat. "…It's uh… hard to explain. …Kind of a clicking sound, but… that's not right. We keep hearing it, but we can't place it." Gil gave him a respectful moment, in case he had a suggestion, but he merely frowned, so Gil continued. "They undistorted the voice, and though none of them could immediately place it, it's clearly a different voice from the first call. …He has an accent, but the people at the lab weren't certain how to place it." Both Jace and I blinked in surprise, tilting our heads backwards as we took it in. "They said… Hispanic and British, combined." We both frowned, and Gil nodded, like that was what he expected. "…Do either of you know anyone with an accent like that?"

Simultaneously, we shook our head, and he sighed. "In the meantime, we're just waiting… hopefully the surveillance…"

"It sounds like you're a glorified messenger more than a forensic scientist, Mr. Grissom." The way he flinched when she used his title had me seething, not thinking… overreacting due to extreme stress and mounting despair.

"Fucking hell, you controlling, manipulative bitch! My daughter is missing! _Your granddaughter_! Everyone in this room wants the same thing, and yet for some reason you feel like the appropriate thing to do is bait him and me until one of us snaps and I'm fucking sick of it! You keep your goddamned mouth shut, or you get the hell out of my house!"

The silence that rang after my tirade left me panting and turning red, wishing I had had better control, because now…

"Mom… What's she talking about?" Jace asked.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to tell Gil via telepathy that I was sorry, but the only thing I'm certain I communicated is despair as sobs overtook me for probably the hundredth time today. I didn't any of their interactions, but I heard their words, and I knew what was coming.

"Jace… please, it's not something we need to get into with everything that's going on," said Gil, the peacemaker.

"No… Sara's never been anything but respectful to my mother, even after all the wedding stuff… for her to talk this way…"

"Respectful, my ass. …Gil, why don't you tell Sara what it means to be _respectful_? …Or doesn't she know that part?"

Gil had clearly turned his head to face her, because his voice came less clearly than before. "Do you want your son to know this? Is that what you're aiming for?"

"Know what? …What don't I know? …What part doesn't Sara know?"

"Jace, trust me, you don't want to—"

"I don't trust you, Gil. …Mom?"

"…It isn't important honey." She said, but the smile in her voice gave her away. For some reason, yes, she did want it to come out, if only to torture Gil with the information.

"No, goddamn it! Tell me!"

She sighed dramatically, "Well, honey… I knew Gil… from a long time ago."

"…Okay?"

I cringed and reached for Gil's hand. He took it and squeezed, clearly bracing himself as well.

"…It was when I left home, for a while."

There was a long silence. …Jace had never told me about that time of his life. I hadn't even known that his mother had left… and clearly it was something the family didn't talk about, if I'd never heard it from any of his sisters either. He cleared his throat. "I, uh… I don't understand."

"…He seduced me, Jace. He was the man—"

"Seduced you?" Gil roared and I snapped my head up, screaming "What?" in time to see Jace's expression change from concerned and confused to shocked and then… enraged. I turned to try to explain… to make him understand what had really happened, but it was already too late.

He had wound up and punched Gil square in the face.


	73. Chapter 73

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, I'm trying to make sure I stop you guys at a good stop before I'm unable to update for over a week... and thus, two chapters tonight. So please please be nice, as I'm being nice, and review both. Or if you don't want to do that, at least comment on both in one review, because I really want to hear your seperate reactions.

Enjoy! :) I'm going to ready myself for another onslaught of unfair Jace comments. :P Goodnight!

* * *

Chapter Seventy Three:

Good Lord, the man could punch. And he didn't stop at one—we were lucky that we were in a room full of cops, because he completely blindsided me… I didn't even have a chance to try to defend myself. I covered my face in alarm, already feeling the stinging in my eyes and the blood dripping between my fingers. …If he hadn't been so blind with rage, he probably would have broken my nose… as it was, my jaw felt like it'd been knocked completely off and I knew I would have a black eye and a fat lip in a matter of minutes.

Sara came to me first, dragging me into the kitchen and quickly wetting a cloth to wipe up the blood that was dripping from my nose. …Did I mention the man can punch? Fuck me, it hurt. She didn't even glance in his direction while she was taking care of me, apologizing repeatedly, blaming herself for rising to Susan's provocation and starting this whole mess. And despite a rather bruised ego, it felt nice to lean against the counter and close my eyes, letting her small frame flit around me as she tried to clean up my face without causing any more pain than I was already feeling, her body brushing against me carelessly the entire time.

If I had to get punched in the face, there was nothing better than having her close and caring, forgetful that she was even angry with me.

It was fifteen minutes later, as I sat with a package of frozen green beans pressed over my fact because she didn't have ice packs big enough to cover the entire damage area, that one of the men who'd pulled him off me stepped into the room. "…We've got him cuffed, Dr. Grissom. You'll need to come down to the station to file charges…"

"No." I said, shaking my head, surprised at my lack of hesitation. "He isn't in his right state of mind… his daughter is missing. …Besides, it's not like I haven't punched him myself. …It's fine."

He frowned. "…He could have seriously injured you. …Truth be told, I think he still wants to."

I frowned too, not thinking that I wanted to press charges, but that Jace and I both needed to remain in this house without ripping each other's heads off. Sara leaned close to me. "…Let me try to talk to him for a minute, okay?"

I didn't like the idea of that, especially with Jace in such an aggressive state of mind… "You'll take a cop with you?"

She smiled softly and kissed a small portion of my cheek that wasn't bruised. "Fortunately, I've never slept with his mother… I'm not worried. …I'll be back soon, okay? There's more green beans in the freezer…"

I cracked a smile at that, and she moved out of the room. The kitchen was mostly open to the rest of the house, so I could see her instruct the men to uncuff him and I watched as she led him back into the hallway, no doubt to find a room to speak in private, while everyone glanced between them and me. The man in the room beside me shook his head, muttering to himself, and went back out to the living room… and then Susan sauntered into the kitchen, looking rather proud of herself.

I leaned back against the counter against, flipping the green beans and leveling the woman with my best disbelieving glare. She smiled. "…She must love you. She's never yelled at me like that over my son."

"…He could have been arrested. The kidnapper is only willing to talk to Jace… do you realize that? …That your mind games are hurting everyone and putting an innocent little girl at risk?"

She leaned against the counter opposite me in the small kitchen, her voice quiet enough to not be heard in the next room, but loud enough to carry. "…I know you, Gil. Or did you forget that? …There was no way you would press charges, especially if it would put little Ayla at risk. I watched you looking at Sara's little photo album. …You look at her like she's yours, even now that you know she has my blood in her."

I glanced at her through one swollen, un-green-bean-obscured eye. "…There's nothing of you in that little girl."

"…No? She even looks like me."

"She looks like Sara."

She raised an eyebrow. "…Sara and I look a lot alike, Gil. Don't they say that men are attracted to women who remind them of their mothers? ...I mean, when I look between us, I don't struggle to see how you could have fallen for both of us."

I grit my teeth. I didn't want to see the similarities, but now that she had pointed it out… they were both slender, long-legged brunettes who were passionate and strong-willed. Although, where Susan's sex appeal had been premeditated, Sara's was unconscious… she was unbelievably sexy without trying. "She's nothing like you."

"Fine," she said, unconcerned. "You don't have to see it. …But I can tell that you're still affected by me. …Do you still dream about the nights we shared?"

"No." I said. I had stopped having those particular nightmares years previous. I flipped the green beans again.

"…Sara doesn't know about us. Not really."

I sneered. "…About the _respect_ you mentioned? …She knows enough."

She laughed. "So nothing at all." She stood up, turning to face the large opening in the cupboards that faced the dining room. "…Does it make you nervous, that she's alone in her bedroom with my son?"

"Does it make you nervous that your son will come out knowing the truth?"

She opened the drawer beside her, fiddling inside it absently. "No. …He isn't going to believe a cheating wife over me." She offered a laugh. "See, I know my son, just like I know you… and whether you'll admit it or not, you miss me, Gil."

I opened my mouth to deny the claim, but I wasn't given the opportunity—_Crack!_ I flinched again, dropping the green beans to the floor. She'd taken a ruler out of what looked like a junk drawer and snapped it on the counter. My face was burning and I was breathing heavily, feeling every inch a scared nineteen year old boy who was afraid to do something wrong and disappoint. She tittered a laugh and I swallowed, regaining my enigmatic expression with difficulty. I left the beg of vegetables on the floor, retrieving a fresh one from the freezer and moving out of the kitchen and away from her without a word.

I needed to find Sara.

* * *

I pulled him into my bedroom after leveling a glare at my mother in law who looked smug and unconcerned, despite the world falling down around us. Gil was right—he wasn't in his right mind, with Ayla missing. I closed the door and watched him sink onto my bed, putting his face in his hands. I hesitated and moved over to him, sitting beside him and pulling him gently into a hug—the first real affection I'd shown him since the cruise. He stiffened in surprise and then relaxed, clinging to me, shuddering.

I rubbed his back calmly, giving him a minute, and then pulled back to look at his face. …He looked like a man at the very end of his rope… he looked like a man with nothing left to live for. I sighed softly. "…Will you let me explain this to you, before you say anything?"

I expected him to yell… to rage that I had known about them all along and not told him… but he didn't. He nodded softly and leaned back into my embrace, desperate for human contact. I allowed it, sensing that he needed it more than he was revealing and from someone he could trust… he trusted me, after all of this, more than his mother. …I was banking on it.

"Jace… first of, I want you to know that I didn't know… none of us knew that… they had been… together. When they saw each other today… it was bad. But it wasn't what you think, okay? …Gil was innocent."

He snorted in disbelief and I clucked my tongue. "…You think I would say that if it weren't true?"

He leaned back, looking into my eyes for a long moment, and I saw a shift in his—resignation. He closed his eyes. "…No."

I pulled him tight to me again. "Gil was nineteen… she's almost twenty years older than him. …He was a science nerd and a virgin who had been raised with a deaf mother… he wasn't exactly the type of guy to seduce his teacher. …She initiated the first encounter, and after it, he told her that it couldn't happen again, because she was married. …Later, she told him that she'd gotten a divorce, which she obviously hadn't. …Jace, hon', Gil still believed that she'd been divorced until today. He never found out."

He sniffled softly, and I knew he was fighting back tears. I squeezed tighter. "…She was controlling and manipulative, Jace, just like she is with you. …But it was worse, because she wasn't just trying to get him to cut his hair and guilting him into going to parties thrown by her women's groups and telling him who he could take to his proms… she was manipulating their sex life."

He flinched at those words and I let my hand slide over his back to sooth him. "Jace… before Gil knew that she was your mother, years ago… he told me that she would make him pretend to be 'earning' a grade. …He looked like a frightened little boy when he saw her… and she was provoking him, today. You know that because you saw it... you even defended him. …I'm sorry that you have to hear this about your mother and I know her leaving had be painful if you never told me about it… but you can't blame him for her life choices. …She left you and your dad and sisters… she cheated and lied. …And you can't blame Gil for the choices I made either. Honey, I… I didn't mean to fall in love with him. I didn't mean to hurt you. But it is my fault… and I admit that. I take responsibility… she hasn't, for twenty years."

He pulled back, wiping at the tear or two that had escaped him. I gave him a minute, and then held his hand instead. "…What's important right now is finding Ayla. …You and Gil and I… that's what we want. …She just wants to cause problems. …Let's just calm down, find Ayla, and then… then we can try to deal with all of this after the fact, okay?"

He wiped at his eyes again. "I… I can't believe that I've… I've lost my family, time and again, for him. …What does he have that I don't have?" His voice was quiet and desperate and pleading and I felt tears fill my eyes.

"Nothing, honey. …Look at me." He did, reluctantly, and I squeezed his hand. "…It's not anything you lack. Okay? …We're just not right for each other. I don't know why your mother made the choices she did but… but for us, I feel like… like I wish we had ended it before we got married. …We could have ended it on good terms and… and looked at our relationship as one of the happiest times in our lives. …Just because I'm in love with him doesn't mean I don't love you, Jace. It's just… it's not the same. …It's not enough."

He swallowed. "…But now… you won't look back and say that… that you were happy with me?"

I smiled softly. "…Believe me, I could never forget how happy you made me, no matter what we've done to each other or… or how ugly things have gotten."

"Sara… I, uh… I wanted to tell you… I've been trying for weeks. …Months, really. I… I wrote it all down, it's in this book of poetry in my room. Sara… I…" Another tear slid down his face. "I don't… want you to hate me. Sara, I just… I love you so much. And I… I want—"

A knock came at the door, and Jace frantically wiped his cheeks. "Sara?"

It was Gil, in the hallway. I glanced at Jace, and after a moment he nodded. "Come in."

He slid the door open, glancing between us in the dim light of my desk lamp. "I, uh… I'm sorry to interrupt. I can—"

"No." Jace said, standing up and turning to him. Gil took a defensive step back, and Jace put up his hands, open-palmed. "I… I just wanted to say that I… I'm really sorry, Gil. I… I know it's not an excuse but with Ayla missing…"

"I know." Gil said, not nicely or understandingly, but at least without anger or animosity. Jace nodded, as if he thought it was more than he had a right to expect anyway.

"I… I don't know if… if this is the time to talk about all of this, but… if we find—No, _when_ we find Ayla… I…" He stopped again, uncertain, and Gil nodded.

"We'll talk. …After we find her."

Jace nodded too, and slipped out of room past Gil, who turned his gaze to me. …His face looked awful. There was a smear of blood beneath a bruised nose, and his left eye was black. …He was extremely lucky he'd taken his glasses off to look at the photo album before all of this had started. …His jaw was already showing bruising too. I stood up and he moved over to me, wrapping his arms around me. "…What did you say to him?"

I closed my arms, leaning into the embrace. "…Just the truth. …That you'd told me all of it before you knew she was my mother in law… that it wasn't much of a stretch to take the woman he'd grown up being manipulated by and see her manipulating in other ways… He didn't want to believe it, but I think he knew it himself, before I even told him."

Gil nodded against the side of my head, squeezing me tighter. I swallowed hard and glanced at the clock over my head—it was now pushing ten thirty. "…It's getting late. …He's going to call, isn't he? I mean, if he doesn't… if he hasn't… what does that mean?"

He rocked us gently, and for once didn't offer me an empty promise of certainty. He sighed softly under his breath, tucked his head into my shoulder, and breathed against my neck, "…I don't know."


	74. Chapter 74

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! ...If you wanted to stop reading at the last chapter until I get back, that's fine, because I can't guarantee I'll have a better stopping place up before I leave. The plan, however, is to post up to 76 or 77 before we head out of town. So then we'll be at a better stopping point and it'll just be the winding down of the details... fluff and smut and a tiny bit of angst... but like I said, I can't promise anything. :)

If you do read on, Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Seventy Four:

It wasn't easy, but I left Gil and Sara to comfort each other, straightening my shoulders again my own disbelieving grief, forcing myself to deal with this new set of circumstances. I swallowed, lifted my chin, and moved into the main living area of our home, spying my mother at the table. Our eyes locked, and in a minute we had an understanding—she knew that I knew the truth, and she looked afraid. …A glance at the wary cops around us had me thinking that this would be better to take place outside. I moved to her, about to have her come talk with me in the driveway, when the phone rang again.

In an instant, the room was a flurry of activity and Gil and Sara reappeared, a bag of green beans still held to Gil's face. I felt a surge of guilt that I had necessitated that, but there wasn't time to dwell on it—I was given the signal, and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Jace Wendt." It was not a question but a statement. I cleared my throat.

"Yes."

_ppft! click._ "You are surrounded by policemen." Another statement. I swallowed.

"I am."

"…Then I'll make this short. If you check your mailbox, there will be an unmarked envelope with directions to the place where you'll leave the money. …You will come alone—without the wife, without the police, without the scientist—and you will see your daughter alive. Bring anyone with you, and she's dead before you even get close…" _ppft! click._

The noise. God, why did I recognize the noise? Sara and Gil had mentioned it, but they couldn't place it either…

"I… Let me talk to her. Prove that she's still alive."

_ppft! click!_ "Very well…"

There was a muffled sound against the phone and then everything sounded clearer… undistinguished. And then I heard my baby—my darling Ayla's whimpers and the sound of the phone being pressed to her ear. "Ayla, honey?"

She whimpered again. "…Dada?" Her breathing picked up and then she was wailing. "Dada!" Her sobs became harder to hear as the phone was moved away from her and the muffled sound returned, before he spoke again.

_ppft! click._ "Come alone." The line went dead.

I hung up weakly and turned to look at Sara. In a moment she had pulled from Gil and moved to me, hugging me tightly. "…I heard her." I hear myself say, though I don't remember deciding to speak.

"Was she okay…?"

"She sounded so scared."

She squeezed me tighter and I reciprocated, drawing comfort from her—even if she didn't love me anymore, she was still the most important person in my world, other than Ayla. Just her presence made me feel hopeful…

"…Should someone go get the instructions?" A rookie cop asked, breaking the silence.

I sighed, pulling back from Sara's embrace, about to say I would… when Gil spoke up. "No. …We need some sort of plan. We're not sending Jace anywhere, alone, with ten million in cash and this guy's word that he'll give him Ayla peacefully."

I shook my head. "I… I don't think we should mess around with this, Gil. Ayla—"

"Ayla isn't going to be any better off if you get killed and she's left beside your body with no one around for miles… We can't tiptoe around this guy and we can't let him make us that vulnerable. Someone else has to go with you, either following or in the car with you, to make sure that he honors his half of the deal, at the very least. A better case scenario would be to have a police presence so that once Ayla is safe, they can move in on him… we need a swat team."

I looked in frustration to Sara—"…We're risking Ayla's life."

She looked torn, glancing between us, and squeezed my hand after a long moment. "…We're risking her life and yours by letting you go alone." She looked up at me and shook her head. "I don't want Ayla to grow up without you, Jace. …Let's find a way to do this without risking either of you."

I frowned and closed my eyes, but finally nodded. "…Okay. We'll… we'll think of something. I, uh… I'm gonna go get the envelope… at least give us an idea of where we're planning around."

I pulled away from the group and the dozens of eyes focused on me and moved outside, breathing too fast, trying to stave off a panic attack. I was afraid that doing this would cause us to lose Ayla. …If he knew that Gil was here, he knew more than we were giving him credit for. Was he watching the house… bugging the phone lines, what?

I stepped out and closed the door behind me, surprised to see my mother sitting on the steps up to the front door. I frowned, ready to move past her without a word, when she broke the silence. "…I'm sorry I wasn't a better mother, Jace."

I stopped, glancing at her, uncertain whether to believe her or not. I moved down to the mailbox and pulled out the single envelope—there was no writing, no postage, and no DNA—the flap had been tucked, not licked. I opened it and pulled out a plain piece of paper, glancing at the address. I knew enough to know that it was in the warehouse district, but not much else.

_Ppft!_

My head snapped up—my mother was sitting on the steps, lighting a cigarette. She pulled the Zippo lighter away and let the metal cover fall closed. _Click!_ In one dizzying moment, I knew exactly what had happened… I knew who had my little girl.

_"…So, we have a deal then?" I asked, pacing his office. The man listened and eyed me, his left hand laying unmoving on his desk, the picture of calm, his right agitated, always in movement—he kept opening a square, metal cigarette lighter, running his thumb over the thumb-wheel to ignite it, and then snapping it closed. It was like a nervous habit. The repetition of the sound was like a drum beat, marking the time passing. _

_"…And what happens, Senor Wendt, when there is an oil spill?" His voice had a distinct Hispanic accent, but in English, it also took on a British accent. …He must have learned English from someone British rather than American._

_"Why should there ever be one?" I countered, and the man gave me a hard stare. _

_"I am not a fool, do not treat me as one. …You give me this money, so I don't regulate your company's safety standards… You are paying me to stop regulating them. …Now tell me, if they know they aren't regulated, what incentive do they have to be careful? …If I do this, a spill in inevitable. And when that happens, my life here is over—my job, my family… I will go to prison."_

_I shook my head. "No, no, Senor Acosta, you misunderstand. It's not that we don't want to follow any safety procedures… we don't want an oil spill any more than you do. …It's bad for business. We just want the freedom to be a little laxer on the more extreme regulations."_

_He snapped his lighter closed, finally setting it down on the desk. "And if it should happen, due to your laxity?"_

_"We would of course protect you, Senor. My company doesn't wish you any harm… you help us, and of course, we'll help you…"_

My head was spinning. I had done this. …Sara was right to be mad at me for working for them. "Mom!" I said, urgently, because something was now overwhelmingly clear. She looked up at me in surprise. "…You said you were sorry you hadn't been a better mother… here's your chance to redeem yourself. I need you to go inside and discreetly bring out the two briefcases with the money."

"…What? Why? Jace, what are you planning?"

I shook my head. "…For once in your life, Mom… just trust my judgment. …Help me do what I have to do to save my daughter."

She stared at me for a long moment, and then turned and headed back inside. Frantically, I looked down at the paper in my hands, memorizing the address. I had seen on the news that Senor Acosta had fled the country and had ascertained from that that my company had apparently not protected him, as they'd told me they would do. …When I'd seen this on the news, of course, I hadn't thought anything of it—not really. I didn't work for them anymore… it didn't involve me. But apparently it did. …I had ruined his life, and he was now ruining mine.

He wanted me to come alone, because this wasn't about revenge and it wasn't about money… it was about ruining me. And if it wasn't about the money, then the money couldn't keep Ayla alive… only following his directions exactly could. And…I couldn't let anyone else risk themselves, but I needed to be sure they could find Ayla if something did happen to me. Glancing at the sheet of paper still clutched in my hand, I looked around and finally just let it fall to the grass—it was the only way I could be sure they'd find it. …It was dark. Chances were they wouldn't find it until I had a decent head start.

Like clockwork, my brilliant and yet terrible mother slipped out the garage door rather than the front door, ten million dollars in tow. …She should have been a spy or a jewel thief… something more impressive than a biology professor. "…You're going to go alone."

"You can't tell them."

"…It won't be long until they notice."

"I'd better hurry then."

She passed me the bags, silently, and I moved to my car, tossing them in unceremoniously. "…Jace." I glanced at her, one foot already in the open door. "I love you."

I sighed, forcing myself to ignore her betrayal. "I love you too, Mom."

She nodded, and I slipped into the vehicle, pulling silently out of the driveway and speeding as fast as I thought I could get away with, off to my destination. "…Daddy's coming, Ayla." I whispered to myself, hoping against hope that she was, in fact, still alive.


	75. Chapter 75

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! :) I'm not sure if we're leaving tonight or early tomorrow morning, so I will try to get another chapter or two up before I go, but in case this is my last one before I leave, I just want to thank you all for sticking with this story despite the many frustrations I put you through. I can't wait to finish this story and see how you all feel about it! Your reviews have meant the world to be, whether they were angry, happy, humerous, murderous, or anything in between. :)

Enjoy!

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Chapter Seventy Five:

Sara and I sat at the table, and I watched her run her hands through her hair in agitation. I took her hand. "…It's going to be okay. He heard her… she's alive."

She nodded, putting her face in her hands. "I know… I'm just so afraid."

I nodded. "I know… but we'll get this all worked out, I—"

My phone rang. I pulled it out—Ecklie again. I'd been ignoring his calls all night. I silenced the phone and replaced it. Once again, Sara raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head to tell her it was nothing. It rang again, and another look told me it was him again. I repeated the process, and Sara frowned.

"My boss," I offered as explanation, and then she seemed to relax, nodding and leaning back in her seat. I took the moment to go over something I'd noticed in the message—the kidnapper had said he must come without the police, the wife, or the scientist. He made no stipulation about his mother… which made me question what that meant. His mother had shown up later… which meant that if he didn't know about her, he didn't have the house bugged and no one presently in the room was feeding him information. …Someone in the lab, maybe? Or someone who had been at the house earlier and had left before Susan arrived?

Sara sat up suddenly, alarm in her eyes. "…Where's Jace? He was just going to get the directions but…"

"Susan is out there. …I think they're having a… conversation…"

"…Why do you think that?" She frowned.

"Before the door closed, I heard her apologizing to him…"

"Oh. …They've been out there a long time," she muttered, slouching back in her chair. She frowned, glancing at the door, and then looked back at the table. "…What are we going to do, Gil? Maybe we should give him what he wants and…"

"And let Jace get killed in the process?" I suggested mildly, not surprised when she scowled at me. "No… we need to wait."

She nodded again, laying her head on her arms on the table, and I turned my attention to the TV that was still on to a national news station, mostly to distract myself while we waited for my ex-lover to have it out with the husband of my present love…who was her son. …God, Sara was right—this was far too much like a soap opera for my liking.

The anchor was talking about a big bill being voted on in the senate, but I couldn't for the life of me focus enough to determine what the bill was about or whether I might support it or not. It was more like numb half-awareness as my eyes focused on the moving colors rather than the pictures themselves. It was when the story changed that I found myself slowly giving my full attention.

_"In other news, the cleanup efforts along the Western edge of Central America continue after the devastating oil spill last month threatened the diverse, protected plant and wildlife species found along the shores of those countries. Costa Rica seems to have been the hardest hit—we go to our correspondent, live in Costa Rica, for details emerging about who might have been responsible for this devastating accident."_

I sat up straighter. "Sara… That oil spill last month," I said, knowing she would know what I was talking about without further explanation. "…It didn't have anything to do with Jace's company, did it? …His old company?" The fact that it was right off the Costa Rican border made me wary.

She glanced up at me, head still on her arms, frowning. "Yeah, actually, it did. I mean, not his company, but the oil company they were partnered with. …I remember when I first found out about it. I asked wasn't he so glad he wasn't involved with all of that anymore..."

"What did he say?"

She frowned. "…Acted a little weird, I guess. …Why?"

I pointed to the screen, but though Sara turned to it, I could tell she didn't understand the link… she thought I was merely interested in his ex-company's involvement. She turned back, resting her head back down, her eyes closing. I focused my attention instead.

_"…sta Rican Government had discovered that the agency which regulates offshore drilling was not even checking this particular company's oil platforms. Javier Acosta, head of the agency in question, left the country prior to this revelation and is wanted for questioning concerning what officials are calling a blatant disregard for the laws he was supposed to be upholding. We managed to procure some video of the man in question from anonymous sources… take a look."_

I watched—it looked more like a home video than anything professional, and the man was surrounded by other people whose faces were blurred out. He was laughing, clearly involved in a party of some kind… a celebration, a birthday maybe? And despite that obvious involvement, his right hand was constantly moving, playing with something… something unclear. It was small and square and metal and…

"Oh god, I need a fucking cigarette." Sara moaned, and it clicked into place. A cigarette lighter. It was a nervous habit… I put two and two together in an instant—Jace had made some dirty deal with this man, Acosta, on behalf of his old company, probably while Sara and I were bug-hunting and holed up in her cabin… and now that the deal had blown up in Acosta's face, he was tracking down the name and face he remembered from his betrayal.

"Hey…" One of the cops said, gaining our attention. "…Weren't the suitcases with the money right here…?" Sara and I both turned our heads to him in surprise, noting the space where they had been only a moment ago… or so we thought. How long had they been missing?

"…Where's Jace?" I said, standing up in alarm. Sara frowned at me.

"Outside with his mom, like you said." Sara said, not quite where I was with the revelations yet.

I ran to the door and found the woman on the step, alone. "Where is he?" I demanded again, and she shook her head.

"Gone."

"Gone?"

She nodded and I screamed back into the house. "Sara—he's gone. We have to go, now!"

She was there in a moment. "…What?"

"He left without us… with the money. We have to figure out where he went…"

"The directions are there." Susan said lazily, gesturing to the lawn.

"Why didn't you tell us?" I roared, rushing over to the slip of paper and finding one typed line—an address.

"He didn't want you to know." She replied, softly, puffing on a cigarette.

Sara snapped, "And if he ends up dead because of this, I'm sure that fact will be very comforting to you."

"Sara… Do you know where this is?"

She hurried over to me, glanced at the address, and nodded. "I'll start the car—you tell the black and whites."

I hurried inside, yelling at the officers who were already peering towards the front door, trying to ascertain what all the yelling was about, and a moment later I had run past Susan again and flung myself into Sara's vehicle. Tires squealed as she reversed out of the driveway and took off driving. "…You have a weapon?" I asked her, desperately wishing I had taken mine… or hell, just worn it last night… it would have been on my belt then, because I hadn't stopped at home between the lab and the airport.

She shook her head. "I'm not a CSI anymore, remember? No service weapon."

"Jace?" I asked, expecting the answer to be no. I was surprised, then, when she nodded.

"A handgun… he has a gun safe in his car. …I wouldn't let him keep it in the house, with Ayla getting into everything."

"…So he'll have it on him then."

Her eyes were wide, but she didn't seem to be decided on whether that knowledge was a good or a bad thing. …I could empathize—I didn't want Jace going in unarmed, but then I also didn't want him firing blindly at the people who had Ayla. Sara pressed on the gas and we sped up, the officers finally on our tails now, lights flashing and sirens blaring through the night.

"…Maybe we're freaking out over nothing." Sara said, attempting to be optimistic. "I mean… maybe following this guy's direction will work itself out. He'll take the money, give Jace Ayla… by the time we get there, it could all be over and she could be safe…"

I glanced over at her, noting the dangerous speed at which she was driving and wondering if I should break bad news to her at the moment. I inhaled slowly. "…I don't think it'll happen that way, Sara."

"…Why?"

"…I figured out the sound."

"What?" She glanced at me and I tensed.

"The road, Sara…"

"I'm fine!" She snapped, irritated, and despite myself, I felt a weak smile tug at my lips.

"It's a cigarette lighter… the guy from the news, who fled Costa Rica… the video they showed had him fiddling with one. …I think Jace must have made some sort of deal with him, for his company, and now that this guy's life has fallen apart…"

"Oh god." She said, her voice now a whimper, but I continued, finishing my thoughts, despite knowing she would suspect as much.

"…If they made a deal with him, you know it involved money… and if he's got the money to come here and live inconspicuously, you also know that he probably doesn't really need or want any more. …This is about revenge… which means that Jace following his directions doesn't matter. He just wanted a guarantee of a clear shot."

"Oh god!" She wailed, biting her bottom lip hard. I put a hand on her leg, rubbing gently, trying to calm her, but it didn't seem to help… she had white knuckles on the steering wheel and once again sped up.

Despite the absolutely breakneck speed at which we were moving, it seemed like it took forever to even get close… one of the officers called my cell when we turned off the exit, asking for the address so they'd know when to kill the lights and sirens. He also informed me there was a swat team on the way and that we were to wait until they arrived to do anything.

I gave him the address and agreed, but both Sara and I knew that it was a lie. We would both be flying out of the car the minute she put it in park. …I didn't like that idea, come to think of it. I cleared my throat. "…Sara, honey… when we get there… I'll jump out and… and get an idea of what's going on… you know, um… take in the… lay of the land. You wait in the car and—"

"No."

I glanced at her in surprise and she was leveling me with a glare that was as hard as steel. "…Sara—"

"That's my daughter and my husband that this mad man has… I'm not sitting in the car while you get the 'lay of the land'. Sorry, Gil."

I frowned, thinking that I would never, ever recover if I lost both Ayla and Sara in one night. I was trying to think of an argument that could stop her, but I didn't have the chance… we took another turn, and all of a sudden the lights and sirens were gone—we had to be close. "Sara—"

"Stop, Gil."

My phone rang again and I pulled it out, expecting it to be the police behind us—but no, it was Ecklie again. …He had to be mad if he was still up and calling this late. With irritation, I silenced the phone and pocketed it again, and then all of a sudden we were skidding to a stop, Sara was throwing the car into park, and then her door was open. I fumbled for my handle and we were out of the car in a moment, racing towards the warehouse.

When the clear, distinct sound of gunshots rang through the air, I didn't think—I threw myself over Sara's body, tackling her to the ground, covering her up… I could not lose both of them. It was the only thing I kept thinking… the loss of either… of any… would be unbearable. But both…

She was shaking beneath me, and the silence around us was deafening. She gasped, "Gil… Gil, they've stopped. …We have to…"

I rose off her, slowly, looking around myself warily. …This was stupid for so many reasons, but she was already on her feet, racing headlong towards the door of the offending warehouse, hair flung backwards with her speed. And unarmed though we both were, I wasn't going to let her go alone. I could only follow her.


	76. Chapter 76

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Okay, last one until later tonight. We've got to run some errands beforehand. Once again, if I don't get a chance to post another chapter before I go, sorry and thank you.

Hope you enjoy!

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Chapter Seventy Six:

I parked outside the warehouse in question, swallowing hard, tucking my handgun in my belt at my back and taking the briefcases in hand. They were freaking heavy—ten million in cash isn't light. I was frightened, constantly eyeing the clock, knowing that Gil and Sara would not take long to notice my absence… and that they were both good enough CSIs to find me. It was a matter of timing… I did want to be found, after all. Just in case this didn't go well… and I was fairly certain it wouldn't. I didn't have a death wish, and I didn't want Ayla at risk either.

I drew in a deep breath and forced myself forward, through my fears, thinking of my baby… my baby was just inside. The thought of turning back or calling for help… the thought of reconsidering anything… it was unthinkable. Ayla was mere feet in front of me.

It was dark inside, but I moved towards the only visible light—there were skylights straight ahead, and I was fairly certain I saw movement among the crates there. I moved quickly, eyes darting into the blackness around me, trying to see any incoming attack. …None seemed imminent, and by the time I was half-way across the building, I knew that the movement was Ayla, lying on the cold concrete floor. I took off running, uncaring of the dangers I had previous seen around me and when I reached her, the cases were dropped as I fell to my knees and pulled her to my chest.

She looked like she had cried herself out… she was trembling and cold and looked miserable… frightened and terrified. I held her tight to my chest, my arms around her, trying to warm her little frame as best I could… "Dada?"

"Yeah…" I said, feeling tears in my eyes. "It's Daddy, baby. I'm here. I got you, Ayla, and I won't let anything hurt you anymore…"

"Are you sure about that, Senor Wendt?"

I tensed, looking up to find Acosta standing at the edge of the light, a gun raised and aimed straight at Ayla, who was pressed to my chest. My arms tightened around her. "…Please… I came alone, I brought the money."

"Why should I trust you that it's all there? …You have proven yourself to be dishonest before."

I trembled, gently rubbing my hands over Ayla's back—she was crying now, clinging to me, and all I wanted to do was to tell this monster to go fuck himself and take a moment to calm my little girl's fears. "I… I wasn't being dishonest. …Please, listen to me. My company… my old company—I don't work for them anymore, but they… They told me that they would help you, if something happened. I… I would not have told you that if—"

"And you really believed it? Or were you repeating empty promises to a man whom you knew would never again see money like the kind you offered him?"

"…I believed they would help you get out of the country." I told him, and then in frustration at the wailing I was attempting to shout over, I turned away from him. "Ayla… Ayla, honey, it's okay now. Daddy's got you. You're safe, princess. Daddy won't let anything hurt you…"

"I had a daughter, her age…"

My head snapped back to Mr. Acosta. The gun still held steady on both of us. I was itching to draw mine, but I felt like the movement to retrieve it would make him fire.

"Did you know that, Senor Wendt? …That when I had to flee the country, without your help, I had to leave behind my wife and small child, without any means to support themselves…? …Do you think, with the reputation I have in Costa Rica, that anyone will have any sympathy for the innocent left behind?"

I clutched Ayla to me, swallowing hard. "…I'm truly sorry. I am. …I didn't even know that my company—"

"Enough!" The gun was trembling in his hand. "It's too late for apologies! I have nothing left!"

"…Take the money." I shoved one of the briefcases over to him. "I came alone… no one else knows that you were the one who had Ayla."

He bent down, opening the briefcase, and raised his eyebrows at the money there. "…It's actually all here."

"Of course it is." I said, disbelieving. I felt a cold chill run through me when he started laughing.

"I was an honest, law-abiding, government official before you came along. …Your money has taken from me… everything I'd ever loved. Fuck your money!" He screamed and picked up a handful of the money and threw it, loose bills scattering through the air. I jumped in surprise, clutching Ayla closer still, laying kiss after kiss into her delicate little curls to reassure myself that she was indeed here and alive and thus far unharmed. Her curls reminded me of Sara, and I found myself hoping against hope that we would both see her again. …Even if it was with Gil… just to see her beautiful face again. It would be enough to last me a lifetime.

The man shook his head. "…I'm not the same man you met a year and a half ago in Costa Rica, Senor. …I was an honest man, and now… I have bribed and threatened, kidnapped and killed… innocent people who had done nothing wrong except paint your house or drive your cars…"

Ah—there it was. My driver had told him about Gil… at least I knew that he hadn't bribed a police officer instead or been watching the house… He lifted the gun with more purpose this time, once again focusing on my chest, where Ayla was still crying and gripping my shirt, although she seemed to have calmed a little… her cries were softer. "…So now, Senor Wendt, I will offer you a choice. …The same choice you offered me, in the end. …Do you run, and leave your family to take the proverbial bullet, as I did? …Or will you stay with your daughter and take it with her?"

I gripped Ayla convulsively. I could not believe what he was saying… what he was suggesting. Let him kill Ayla and go free, or die with her… Neither of those were acceptable options. I swallowed. "…Kill me. …Let me call someone to come get Ayla. …Kill me and let her be."

He shook his head. "Oh, that is a far easier option to endure, isn't it? …But it isn't one you have. …Make a choice, sir." I glanced around myself, frantically. What were my options… I was on my knees in front of him. There was no way I could run… could I get to my weapon in time? …I could put Ayla down behind the metal case with the other half of the ten million, but if he killed me, what would stop him from coming after Ayla?

In the distance, I heard a car skidding to a stop on gravel. …They were here. If I could hold out, keep him talking… He cocked his weapon and shook his head. He had heard it too. "Make the decision now, Senor, or I'll make it for you. …3…2…1!"

I threw myself down before the case, covering her body, trying to shield her as much as possible as the shots rang out. I felt a white hot, searing pain in my left shoulder and Ayla was crying and screaming, and I simply prayed that it was only because she was scared… I prayed that I had managed to protect her. …I was her father. That was my most important job. I felt another excruciating blow, in my back… below my ribs. I wondered what the likelihood of survival was after a blow to the stomach as my knees gave out from the pain. I kept my weight off Ayla with my elbows, somehow—unbelievably—having the presence of mind to think that it must be adrenaline allowing me to keep my left elbow upright.

The shots stopped and despite feeling I should simply play dead… I lifted my head to look at the man. He had nothing but grief in his eyes—no anger, no satisfaction at the vengeance he'd pursued and gained… just sadness. He stared me in the eyes, turned the gun to rest beneath his chin, and pulled the trigger.

I tucked my head down in alarm, finally feeling the strain on my arm. It was with effort that I rolled onto my right side, groaning at the pain, trying to take in Ayla's form. …She had blood on her clothing, but I was fairly certain it was mine. She was crying again, sitting herself up and trying to crawl onto my chest. I rolled onto my back, gritting my teeth against the unimaginable, unendurable pain so that she could sit on me and hold me and feel safe again. I wrapped my good arm around her and through labored, wheezing breaths, murmured, "…It's okay, Ayla… you're safe, sweetheart. Daddy's here. …Daddy won't let anything hurt you. …Daddy loves you."

"Jace?" I let my eyes flicker closed as Ayla whimpered out a meek, "Mama?" …Sara. There it was—my wish fulfilled. I would get to see her again.

In a moment she was hovering above me, her cheeks red from running, her curls windswept, her eyes wide. …She was worried about me, in that moment, and that truth… the love I saw in her eyes, even if it wasn't the love I wanted to see… it was enough for me. "Sara…" I wheezed out, and she gently pulled Ayla from me to look at my shoulder.

"…There's too much blood for this. …Did you get hit anywhere else?"

"I… love you… Sara."

Tears welled in her eyes and she shook her head. "Stop it. …Paramedics are on their way, Jace. You… You're gonna be fine."

I shook my head. "I… have never loved anyone… like you. …I want… I want you to be happy, Sara." I drew in another labored breath, aware that the black along the edges of my vision was rather ominous. But Ayla was safe… Sara was safe.

"No." She said, tears falling freely now. "No, Jace…"

"I'm… sorry… for… putting my own… happiness… over yours. ...I just… couldn't… live without… you."

"Help!" She yelled, turning back towards the entrance, frantic. "Somebody! Please! …We need some help in here!"

"Can… I… hold Ayla?"

Sara wiped stubbornly at her beautiful dark eyes and passed the child to me. I grunted softly, but the pain wasn't so bad anymore. …I felt detached from it. Numb.

"Ayla…"

"Dada." She said, hugging me again. I wrapped my good arm around her and kissed her curls—Sara's curls—once more.

"I love you, baby. Daddy… loves…"

"Love." She said, clear as day, the first time she'd uttered the word. I felt tears prick my eyes as I realized the extent of my loss. …I had been content dying to save her life, but in a moment reality washed over me… I would never see her grow up, graduate from high school, go to college… I would never see her fall in love or get married or become a mother herself. …I would miss every birthday, every holiday, every dimple-cheeked smile. I found myself sobbing, suddenly, clutching her to me.

And then Gil was there, and though I expected animosity on my part… anger and resentment and disdain… it didn't come. He was like salvation… his presence as necessary as Sara's. …Because despite the enormity of my loss, it would be greater for Ayla. …She wouldn't have a father to beat away the boys and walk her down the aisle and make her feel like a princess. I had once hated the man for insinuating that my family was his, and now…

"Gil…" I said, struggling to focus my gaze on him, swallowing my grief back with difficulty. He looked at me, and I was relieved to see none of our past animosity in his eyes either. I gasped for air. "I… I want you… to promise me…" I started hacking then and my vision blurred. I felt Sara's small hands clutching my hand, and squeezed them before pulling from her and extending it in the direction I thought the man was.

I felt him take it, and I forced my eyes back to him. "…Promise me… that… that you'll… love her… like your own." I felt tears again, but they didn't consume me this time. …My grief was not nearly as important as getting this out. "…Promise… that she'll never… go without… a father…"

His grip tightened on mine and his voice was shaking. He didn't try to delude me or himself, as Sara had, with thoughts of receiving help… he knew I was dying, and that at this point, there was nothing that could be done. He swallowed hard and met my wavering gaze. "I promise."

I nodded, letting go of his hand to let it fall on my daughter's back again, taking comfort in her closeness. Sara bent over me, her tears falling on my face, and laid a kiss to my forehead, and then lightly to my lips. It was a chaste kiss… it did not possess the passion that I wished it did… but it was more than I could have hoped for, and I let my eyes fall closed.


	77. Chapter 77

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Hope you all survived the long delay. :) I can't tell you how much I missed writing and posting and reading reviews. It was a good time, but I'm glaaaaad to be home.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Seventy Seven:

Everything happened so fast. I don't think I could even tell you the sequence of events precisely. There were suddenly people everywhere, a swat team shouting from all sides and Ayla screaming with all the noise, reaching out for Jace's still form. I didn't have the presence of mind to offer her comfort—I simply shouted for EMTs, insisting that the perp was down. They managed to keep him alive all the way to the hospital, but he never regained consciousness. By the time we arrived, in a separate ambulance, an ER doctor was standing by the open back doors of his ambulance, looking dismayed.

There was a sheet over his face. EMTs were announcing the time—pronouncing him as dead.

Internally I screamed my anguish, ran to him, laid across his chest, attempted CPR myself… but physically, I was frozen. I stared in through the open doors, unmoving, feeling my heart pound in my chest, reminding me that while I was alive… Ayla was alive… Jace was not. I felt like I was swaying on my feet, and I'm not certain what exactly kept me standing.

A doctor finally insisted that she take a look at Ayla—she was dehydrated and in shock, so they kept her for the night. They offered me a bed in the room with her, and I agreed, but didn't sleep. I moved her into my bed, rolling her IV over with some difficulty, and laid in bed just holding her. I didn't know how I would ever feel safe letting her out of my sight ever again. Once she was asleep, I let myself cry silently for the dad she wouldn't remember.

Whatever the man's faults, he had been a good man who loved her—and me—faithfully and unendingly. He would have been an amazing daddy. …He already had been.

I'm not sure where Gil went once we were at the hospital—I had followed the doctors who wanted to look at Ayla and by the time they had her hooked up to an IV to get fluids, he was gone. I wasn't sure when he'd left or when he was coming back, but I couldn't bring myself to actively care. I wanted him there, but if he wasn't… it wasn't a tragedy, like Jace not being here… and Ayla was here. Despite how I loved the man, I could never in my life choose anyone over my baby.

He appeared the next morning, sitting in the seat beside the bed, glancing between Ayla's fluttering eyelashes and my eyes, wide open and blank.

I was vaguely aware that I was happy to see him, on the surface, but the feeling didn't permeate deeper than that. I felt like nothing really seeped in deeper than that. After several minutes of silence, he looked at his knees and cleared his throat softly.

"I'm sorry it took me so long… to figure this out. If I had… sooner… Jace would be alive."

These words did break through and I felt tears welling in my eyes again. I shook my head, mechanically, giving an automated response: "No… you couldn't have known. It isn't your fault." It wasn't that I did blame him—I knew it wasn't his fault. I just didn't have it in me to pour emotion into my disagreement. If I let myself feel fully, I would fall entirely apart.

He nodded, absently too, clasping his hands together. I kissed Ayla's temple, letting my eyes fall closed though I knew I wouldn't sleep, hoping that might end this painful conversation. His phone rang, overloud in the stillness of the room, and once again he pulled it out, looked at it, and chose to silence and ignore. Earlier, I had been curious but preoccupied. Now, I couldn't muster the ability to even feel curious. "…You should silence your phone." I suggested softly, worried it would wake Ayla.

He nodded and complied, and we sat in silence as the faint light slipped into the room through the blinds, changing from washed out gray to a shining golden yellow falling across our faces—Gil's pale, mine ashen, and Ayla's starting to regain some color—pink lips, rosy cheeks, sun-kissed complexion that somehow managed to be peachy as well. I kissed her curls this time, thanking any god out there that she had been spared.

A knock came gently on the door, and I expected the woman in scrubs to be a nurse either bringing Ayla breakfast or coming to yell at me for having moved her to my side for the night. I lifted my head and she gave me a forlorn smile. "…Can I speak with you in private, Mrs. Wendt?"

I felt my eyes close in pain at that—I had wanted for so long to be anything but 'Mrs. Wendt' and now… I was, apparently, a widow. I drew in a shuddering breath and clutched Ayla tighter to me. "I… I don't want to leave her."

Gil stood up. "I can leave…"

And though I had felt like I hardly cared if he were there or not, the idea of him leaving me left me feeling frantic. My heart raced at the thought. "No! …Stay. …Whatever it is," I said, turning to the woman, "he can hear it."

She stepped in, closing the door behind her, and stood at the end of my bed. "…There, ah… was a car accident, last night. Your mother-in-law is fine… she's here, in recovery, but… we were hoping you might have some information about her mental state."

I blinked in confusion. "…Her mental state?"

The woman cleared her throat. "There, uh… are indications that… it was deliberate. The crash was on the Longfellow Bridge… her car only made it halfway through the guard rail… she was unconscious and she survived but… there's no alcohol in her system and there was no crash to propel her into the side. …We're thinking, right now, that it was a suicide attempt."

My head was suddenly spinning. I sat up. "…And you are?"

"Dr. Mead. I'm with the psych department here… she's in my care unless we can determine that the crash was accidental."

I exchanged a glance with Gil, and sighed, reluctantly meeting the woman's eyes. "…You're going to want to sit down for this."

When Jace's dad and sisters landed and couldn't reach Jace or his mother or the home phone, they called my cell. I didn't want to have to face them either, but Gil held the phone out to me from where it had rang on the bedside table, forcing me to meet the confrontation head on. I swallowed, dropping the pancake I'd been tearing into smaller pieces for Ayla who was sitting on my lap, took the phone, and answered it on the last ring.

"…Hello?"

"Sara! Honey, what's going on? We can't reach Jace or Anne and nobody's at home…"

"We're at the hospital, for Ayla." I said, putting off the inevitable. "She's a little dehydrated and they wanted to keep her a while to make sure everything was okay…"

"Oh. …Oh good. …She's safe? Everyone is safe?"

I swallowed. "…No. Ayla is safe, but… Are you driving?"

"We're in a taxi."

"Come to the hospital… there's a lot to tell you."

He hung up without another word and within twenty minutes they were all moving into the room—Jace's father, whom I had always loved, and his three sisters. The two older I had never cared for, the one younger I had liked quite a bit. She offered me a smile, though they were all frowning in confusion at Gil and at Jace's obvious absence. "Gil," I said, my voice cracking. "…Could you take Ayla out of the room?"

He nodded, lifting the small child to rest on his hip and taking the rolling IV tree in hand, wheeling it out into the hallway. I turned my gaze to the people in front of me, noting their panicked gazes. I sniffled, feeling tears well in my eyes again and trying to force them back. "…Jace is… he… he was trying to save Ayla and… he was killed."

Nobody burst into tears or wailed at the sky—they stared at me, numbly. His father trembled and one of the girls slid a chair into place behind him as his knees went out. Silent tears began, everyone shaking their heads in disbelief, insisting that it wasn't possible and that I must be mistaken. …But the sob that broke through my lips, seeing my father-in-law so broken…beyond grief…confirmed their worst fears.

The oldest sister finally met my gaze and wiped her eyes. "…Where's mom?"

I wiped at my own. "…She's, um… she's in the psych ward… right now."

"What?" They shouted as a collective, and I drew in a shaky breath.

"They… She was in a car accident, last night. She's going to be fine, just some minor injuries, but… they believe she was trying to drive herself off the bridge. …They think she was trying to commit suicide."

I watched the effect my words had on Jace's family with a certain amount of detachment—it wasn't that I didn't care, but I had already endured so much grief that I simply felt… drained. Empty. Like I couldn't take on any more pain. I watched their tears, their rationalizations, their denials and hugs and attempts to comfort each other from a grief that could not be soothed, not in a lifetime. And when they hugged me, comforted me, and made their excused to leave and go see Anne—Susan—their wife and mother…I felt nothing but relief. I didn't want to witness any more pain.

They assumed that she had tried to kill herself over grief at her son's death—from the time of the accident, I knew that she had attempted to go over the bridge as Gil and I were running into the warehouse. There was no way she could have known one way or the other. Maybe she believed she had sent him to certain death by letting him go alone, but I was inclined to believe that that was one of the few things she had one right by Jace, even if it had ended so badly… She let go of some control, allowed him to make his own decision and do what he knew to be right. …And while I was devastated that he'd been killed, I couldn't say with certainty that Ayla would have lived if he hadn't gone off alone. …I would have given my life for hers, just as he did, and I knew that if he'd stayed back, he never would have forgiven himself.

He may have been the one attempting to drive off a bridge.

No, I wanted to believe that the woman had seen the error of her ways, not only in how she'd victimized Gil, but in how she'd mothered Jace. I wanted to believe that her apology to Jace outside that had led me to believe he was delayed in talking to her, not because he'd run off after Ayla's kidnapper, was genuine… that she was feeling some level of remorse.

Gil and Ayla returned and a nurse came in, checking over Ayla a final time and handing me a stack of papers to complete to take her home. …I wasn't sure I wanted to go home, to relive the night before and the realities it had brought with it, but I didn't know where else I would go. Ayla hadn't yet asked for Jace… not since we'd left the warehouse. But she had fallen asleep on the ride to the hospital, and hardly woken while they examined her and settled her in a room. She'd only been awake a few hours… it would happen, sooner rather than later, and I was dreading it.

...How do you tell your little girl that she can't see Daddy because Daddy is gone?

I just didn't think about it. It was working for everything else right now—all the things I knew I would eventually have to confront: Paying back the money Jace had borrowed without Jace's income, funeral arrangements, explaining to Jace's family why 'Gramma-Anne' would never be allowed to see Ayla ever again, dealing with the unresolved non-relationship between Gil and I, explaining to Jace's family who Gil was and why he was here and how he knew Suzanna… because I wasn't going to allow her to keep up the innocent façade. I had nieces and nephews, albeit the children of the sisters I didn't like, who would suffer from her influence. I could not remain silent.

But for now… for now it worked to pass the papers back to the nurse, change Ayla into clean pajamas, and tuck her into a borrowed car seat in a hospital shuttle van, because our vehicles were parked outside the warehouse—and one was likely in a junk yard, having been torn apart by guard rails and rescue workers. It was easier to tell my in-laws that I needed to take Ayla home, to avoid the tough problems, and focus on the moment. And even though Gil accompanied us… I didn't know what to say to him.

We walked into the home where everything had built up… where I'd felt like a prisoner… where I had realized that Ayla was missing… and I realized that the only room untainted by these memories was the one I never entered—Jace's. I felt drawn to it and took Ayla, who had fallen asleep on the drive, straight back to it, opening the door and curling both of us up in his bed. It still smelled like him and I breathed in deeply, imagining for a moment that he were still alive.

Gil hovered in the doorway, uncertain, and finally turned to head back down the hallway, away from us… but the idea of him leaving, once again, struck me as unbearable. "Gil…"

He stopped, turning back to me, his weakness clear on his features for the first time in a very long time. I took in the still-black eye and his swollen lips and nose, the bruise on his jaw… It was so hard to reconcile everything that had happened since the morning before when I'd discovered Ayla missing. …It was so hard to reconcile everything that had happened since I'd met the man with the reality we were facing today. I wasn't ready to say that all was forgiven when he'd abandoned me at my lowest moment, how many months previous… but I wasn't ready to send him away.

I drew in a deep breath, scooting Ayla closer to the other side of the bed and scooting with her, leaving room behind me for him to lay with us. He apparently didn't need the words that I couldn't seem to muster—he came in, slipped out of his shoes, and laid in Jace's bed behind us, wrapping a protective arm around me, his palm resting across Ayla's little tummy. We laid in silence for a long moment… I don't know if he thought I was sleeping or simply didn't care, but he lifted his head from the pillow and pressed a gentle kiss to the curve between my neck and shoulder before sighing and letting his head to the pillow.

I didn't know how to respond… so I didn't. I kept my eyes closed and focused on the comfort of my baby in my arms and Gil's arm around me, and let sleep—blissful, unthinking peace—sweep over me.


	78. Chapter 78

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Enjoy!

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Chapter Seventy Eight:

Sara slept—I didn't.

I was holding a woman and child, neither of which were mine. I was in love with one and would now have to figure out how to atone for my mistakes while she dealt with the tragedies of the past day and a half… while somehow reconciling how I was supposed to fulfill the promise I made to Ayla's dying father that I would step up and take his place in her life when she wouldn't want me… she would always want him. Not to mention the fact that I now knew the child's grandmother was the twisted woman who had tortured my adolescence and twisted my conceptions of sex and sexuality for the beginning half of my adult life.

A couple hours after we laid down, Ayla woke up. I knew that Sara hadn't slept, so I quietly disentangled myself and took the child out of the room, thinking only that Sara needed her rest. I didn't consider that I knew nothing of the child… despite not knowing me, she had not once looked at me like she was afraid of me. I wondered if she was simply a trusting and outgoing child or if it was something more than that. …I wanted it to be more, but my senses told me that she hadn't cried when any of the nurses or doctors handled her.

Once out of the room, I looked down at the dark-haired child who was rubbing her eyes and burrowing her face into my shoulder. I had one arm under her bottom and tucked into the crook of her knees, and used to other to press experimentally against her diaper—I didn't necessarily have a lot of experience with children, but my adventure or two babysitting Lindsey gave me some vague knowledge on the difference between a wet and a dry diaper.

I moved past her bedroom, the entrance still blocked with crime scene tape, and found a diaper bag I had seen the previous day, on the floor between the couch and an end table. I tugged it out and fumbled through it with my free hand, finding a diaper and a small container of wipes. I laid Ayla on the carpet, watching her deeply brown eyes take in my face in long, searching strokes and short, flickering glances. I offered a smile, kneeling by her feet and opening the clean diaper. I slid her PJ pants down her chubby baby legs, smiling when I saw that each of her tiny toenails were painted a pretty pink. It didn't seem like the type of thing Sara would do, and I couldn't help but smirk at her more foolish, feminine side peeking out.

It felt good to smile genuinely, today.

I slid the stretched out diaper under her bottom, double checking that it was facing the right way, before struggling with the little container holding her wipes and finally getting it open. …I wasn't sure how many, and took out two, hoping that I would have smelled if she had a messy diaper, and then closed the contraption and tossed it unceremoniously back into the diaper bag. And surprisingly, the rest was fairly easy. I undid the flaps, reminded myself to wipe front to back and not back to front, grasped her ankles gently to slide the diaper from beneath her and fold it, and quickly fastened the clean one on her with care.

…I was rather proud of myself as I put her PJ pants back on and offered Ayla a grin. "Pretty good, don't you think?"

"Gla!" She said, pointing at my face, which made me frown. …I wished I knew if she were saying something specific or if it was just babbling. She giggled when I frowned and put her hands to my face, grabbing my bearded cheeks a little roughly and pulling.

"Oh! Oh, owie, princess… let go…"

She let go, but giggled again, apparently untroubled at my pain. I smiled again and scooped her up, taking the diaper to the kitchen garbage, which I assumed would be the first in the house to be changed, because I was avoiding her bedroom. I set her on the floor to wash my hands and watched as she pushed herself to standing, toddled over to the refrigerator, stretching up to reach the handle. When her thick little fingers brushed it but remained unable to grasp it, she turned her gaze on me, her bottom lip stuck out in a textbook pout.

I grinned. "Are you hungry, Ayla?"

She reached for the hand again, letting out an indignant little 'uh!' of frustration. I scooped her up again, opened the door of the fridge, and bent down, ignoring the slight protest in my knees. Together, we looked inside. "…You had pancakes with Mommy this morning, so I know you eat real food…"

"Mama!" She said, clapping her hands together. I smiled, sliding open drawers in frustration and finally deciding I would simply make her a real lunch and hope it was okay. My first thought was peanut butter and jelly, but Catherine's voice rang in my head… something about peanut anything before a child was a year old being a bad thing. I frowned, shuffling the contents and finding a pack of American cheese. …Grilled cheese would be fine, right? I found a highchair tucked into a large panty and scooted it out, securing her in it before moving to look through cupboards to find a sauce pan, a frying pan, bread, butter, and a can of tomato soup.

Ayla whimpered, banging her palms against the top of her highchair and I frowned, looking around for something to give her to occupy her while I made food. I opened the fridge again, this time finding individually sealed fruits… I took out some peaches, drained them, and poured them directly onto her highchair, watching her grin and attempt to pick up the slippery pieces in her little fingers while they skated across the surface evading her. Finally, she cornered one, grasped it in her palm with her digits wrapped around it, and brought it to her open mouth.

I smiled, turning to make the food.

I left the soup on low heat and only made Ayla's sandwich, first, cutting it up for her to eat by herself while the soup cooled, and then spoon-feeding her that. I gave her a sippy cup with water, uncertain if she could have milk yet, and found myself simply watching her deep-eyed concentration on each little movement of hand to surface to pink-tinged lips. I smiled and asked her, "Does your Mommy give you milk yet?" She looked at me and then glanced around, and I expected her to once again repeat 'Mama,' but she didn't.

"Dada! …Dada?" She looked around her again, frowning, and so did I, a dread growing within me. …How did I address that?

I jumped about a foot when Sara shouted "Ayla? Gil?" in alarm from the end of the hallway.

Ayla squealed "Mama!" happily and twisted in her seat, trying to see behind her to where Sara's voice had come from.

"In the kitchen!" I called, knowing from her tone that she'd been frightened to wake alone and relieved that Ayla now seemed distracted. I hadn't thought of that and instantly felt guilty—I'd just wanted her to catch up on some sleep, but instead she'd woken up alone, Ayla once again missing from the place she'd fallen asleep. I frowned at my own stupidity, placing new sandwiches on the still-hot frying pan, hoping that she wouldn't be angry with me.

"Oh Ayla!" She wrapped her arms awkwardly around the girl in her seat and kissed her head over and over. I glanced at her uncertainly and offered a strained half-smile when she glanced up at me, the panic not entirely gone from her eyes.

"I, uh… wanted to let you get some sleep."

She nodded, kissing Ayla's curls once more for good measure before moving around the chair and over to me. I wasn't sure what she was going to do and found my heart racing… I was nervous, scared even… until her arms wrapped around my waist tightly and her head came to rest against my chest. Uncertainly, I set down the spatula in my hand and slowly slid my arms around her shoulders, drawing her in closer to me. "…I'm sorry that I scared you. I wasn't thinking… I just… I… Sara…" I felt myself tremble as words I hadn't been able to speak when I first arrived in Boston tumbled out. "…I missed you, so much."

She pulled back from me, blinking rapidly, and sniffled. "…Gil, I… I don't… I…" She shook her head. "Can we… not talk about this yet?" Her voice was pleading, and even though it hurt… I knew that she was also hurting. She was dealing with a lot, and I couldn't push her to confront the situation between us when so much else had happened. …If I did, she might just decide it'd be easier to end things entirely, and where would that leave me? …No, I needed to give her time, so I nodded and gently pulled her back into a hug.

This one was shorter—she pulled back after a moment, as if worried now that prolonged contact might give me the wrong idea—and breathed in deeply. "…That smells good. Is there more?"

I picked up the spatula and turned the sandwich that was just a little overdone on that side now and offered her a smile. "Go ahead and pull out some bowls… it'll be done in a minute."

And somehow, that was all it took. I mean, we didn't touch again, after that brief hug… but things weren't complicated. We ate, we played with Ayla, and Sara spent a lot of time on the phone, figuring things out. She was stressed and tried to hide the fact that she was barely holding back her tears most of the day, and because I knew she wanted me to keep a distance, I let the charade of being 'fine' go on, simply because I didn't know what to do about it if she wasn't going to let me comfort her.

Ayla went down for another nap and I mindlessly pretended to watch television, listening to her words murmured softly through the telephone because she was worried about waking her sleeping child. She was trying to make funeral arrangements, but she didn't know what kind of a budget she had… I wanted to suggest calling the crime lab. Jace had crouched behind one of the briefcases and there was every possibility that that money was still intact and bore no evidence… maybe she could get some of it back. …I just wasn't sure she would want any of it back.

She paged through bills, wrote and rewrote numbers on a pad of paper, apparently trying to figure it out. I offered to help, just once, but the look she gave me told me not to try again, so I didn't. When Ayla woke, I once again changed her and fixed the three of us supper… Sara commented, at the table, that it seemed odd that she hadn't heard from Jace's family all day, and I nodded slowly, wondering if that meant that she had told them the truth…

Sara went to bed with Ayla that night, and once again left the space behind them open for me, indicating that I was welcome. I nodded and moved to my duffle bag, thinking I'd shower and change into clean boxers and an undershirt for bed—I was still in the clothes I'd been in all the day before and the entire night before that, at the lab. Speaking of… I pulled my phone from my pocket, where it had sat since I'd silenced it.

36 Missed Calls. I scanned through them quickly. Ten were from Catherine, one from Warrick… the rest from Ecklie. I frowned, wondering what could be so urgent, thinking that I should perhaps check my messages now rather than waiting 'til I went back to Vegas to figure out what had Conrad's panties in a twist…

A whimper from the bedroom stopped me—I didn't know which of my girls was upset, probably having a nightmare… but I knew exactly where I needed to be in the moment. I dropped my phone and my clean underclothing back into the duffle and hurried back to them.


	79. Chapter 79

Disclaimer: I do not own.

A/N: :) Once again, I doubt my readers will be very happy with me. Sorry... hehe.

Enjoy!

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Chapter Seventy Nine:

I felt Gil climb into bed behind us, still fully clothed, and finally let myself relax, drifting quickly off to sleep despite the overwhelming weight on my mind. A part of me recognized this as significant, but another part of me said I was simply desperate for human interaction. Because I wasn't ready to deal with what Gil and I were or what we would become, and I felt guilty for wanting him, after everything that had happened with Jace… I found myself arguing, internally, that I really didn't want him.

None of these arguments, of course, held any weight when I woke up hours later with him still pressed up close behind me, something distinctly hard and familiar pressing into my back. From his breathing, it was clear that he was asleep… he was unaware of his erection and it was certainly unintentional. I knew, as a scientist, that the body was in a state of arousal when in REM sleep. It was natural. …I also knew, as a scientist, that nine months after a tragedy, birth rates skyrocketed—people sought comfort in each other… and biologically, sought to create life when confronted with the loss of life.

I rationalized that the presence of his erection meant nothing just like the fact that I could feel myself reacting to it meant nothing—they were both scientifically explainable and the occurrence of them together was coincidental… and anomaly. Really—I could write a thesis on the all the reasons why it was meaningless and I should just forget it and go back to sleep.

My mind, however, seemed to be far from controlling my impulses… my hand had already released Ayla's small form and was sliding over my hip, moving slowly but surely behind me to run my fingertips over him. I bit my lip as his arm tightened around me in response, remembering vividly the times in which I had been intimately acquainted with this part of his anatomy… how it had felt, smelled, tasted, looked… the expressions that crossed his beautiful features and the sounds that had slipped from his lovely lips when I had laid my attention on him…

I felt, almost as if I were removed from the action, my hand tightening around the length of his shaft. A delighted smile crossed my lips, unexpectedly, when he hissed in my ear and his hips arched up to me. But his breathing had changed now and his head was lifting in confusion to look down at me. I felt the smile fall away and a strange sort of defiance cross my features instead, anticipating his disapproval and already angry with him for it. He swallowed loudly in the stillness, his breathing fast and yet still shaky.

"…Sara?"

"Gil." I responded, and though I intended this response to be very enigmatic and emotionless… instead it came out in a quavering voice I did not like nor recognize.

I blinked several times, feeling my features warring between defiance and uncertainty and shame at the very real desire I had to feel him close to me again… feel life pulsing through him and, vicariously, through me. He could make me feel alive again, when I had really only been functioning for… longer than the 48 hours of hell I'd just endure. …I'm been merely functioning for months, but as this had been an improvement from not functioning, I had been content with that.

Tonight, I wasn't happy to simply not be dead. I wanted to be alive.

His eyes moved in long, slow sweeps over my face, making me feel like he was looking right through me—like he saw everything that I was and everything I lacked and all of my emotions that even I couldn't truly understand in the moment were laid bare to him. Though I did not move my hand from him, I braced myself for the rejection I knew was coming… for him to say that he didn't really think it was a good idea or for him to insist that we talk about what this meant and what we were and where it was going.

He made no demands… he closed his eyes slowly and then reopened them, his voice soft and gentle. "…Are you sure?"

Oh god yes, I was sure. I rolled over to face him, capturing his lips and already tearing at his shirt with both hands, desperate for the press of his skin and the feel of his light layer of chest hair and the hard throb of exactly what had started all of this… but he pulled back from me gently, his palms running over my shoulders, slowing and calming me. "Sara… Sara, honey, Ayla's right there…"

I blinked in surprise and felt a stab of guilt that she had completely slipped from my mind in the moment, but I shoved it aside. "…My bedroom." The words came out on a rush of breath and then he was slowly sliding out of bed, reaching out a hand for me to take, and leading me gently down the hall to my bedroom. I still felt the heat and the speed and the adrenaline rushing through me… I wanted to tear his clothes from his body—feel every inch of him. I wanted him to pound into me until it hurt, because it would mean feeling something acutely, without the heavy fog through that had been obscuring everything.

But Gil would not indulge me, in that… I pushed him roughly to the bed and straddled his hips, and his hands came up to my waist, slowing my movements even as my hands finished what they'd started moments before, tearing his shirt from his body. Once they had, his palms inched up my spine, slow and deliberate, bending me forward until our chests were pressed together. He kissed me with a gentle kind of fierceness that took my breath away and left me reeling, and calloused fingers did not tear my clothes off but rather slipped them from my body with caresses.

I wanted ferocity… I wanted him to fuck me. …He wouldn't let me. Wouldn't give in and give me what I wanted. He made love to me, instead.

He lovingly traced my curves with his palms, curled his fingers into my hair, pressed his lips to every inch of skin he could reach and dipped his tongue into each dip and valley—between my breasts, the hollow of my throat, my belly button. He refused to let my urgency sweep us up, and so I had no choice but to match his pace, despite my frustration that he was denying me what I so desperately needed. I felt tears stinging my eyes I was so upset at him denying me… but a voice in the back of my head told me that if I let these tears fall, they would never stop… because they were for far more than my minor irritation.

I choked them back, though they arose again when he gently rolled me onto my back and slipped inside me, his breathing and the pounding of his heart against my breast the only indication that he might feel desire as acutely as I did. He loved me slowly, fully, patiently, and though I was certain that my desperation would prevent me from finding the release I sought, I underestimated him. He wouldn't let me give up, though I gasped out several times, "…I don't think I can."

He would simply draw me closer to him, run his hands up the length of my sides, and press a kiss into my hair. I wanted him to give up and just finish already… or to argue with me… to try to force the orgasm I was certain would not come so that I could get angry and storm away. He didn't… he murmured into my hair that I was beautiful, and that Ayla was beautiful… that she was safe and I was safe and he was never going to let anything hurt us ever again. He whispered through ragged breaths that he had never stopped loving me and that he would never find another woman like me if he lived for another thousand years.

He breathed against my ear that he only knew what it felt like to be whole when he was deep inside me and that I made him feel things he'd never imagined before. He swore, lips moving along my neck, that nothing had ever tasted sweeter than my skin did right now and that nothing had ever sounded better than the gasps on my lips, with the possible exception of Ayla's laughter. Finally, he pressed his forehead to mine, stared me deep in the eyes, and told me without the words that had narrated the past fifteen minutes of our encounter that he loved me too much to fuck me, even if it was what I thought I wanted or needed.

It hit me by surprise and I let out a desperate, keening wail as I was swept over an edge I hadn't even thought I was close to, and he emptied himself inside of me, gasping and panting and grunting… but never breaking the eye contact that had sent me over in the first place.

When he finally collapsed against me, I found myelf strangely relieved that I no longer had to endure his piercing gaze… no longer had to feel like I could hide nothing. …No longer had to feel all the things he had forced me to feel by denying me to the mindless encounter I had envisioned. I closed my eyes, trying to push the emotions away, but they refused to go… My head was spinning, my heart aching, my eyes watering…

No, I was crying. I was sobbing, in fact. I tried desperately to stop the tears… slow them, silence them, hide or disguise them… but Gil knew. He always knew.

I struggled out from under him with difficulty and hurried from the room despite my nakedness, feeling far less exposed by my nudity than by his eyes. I slammed the door to the guest bathroom, collapsing on the floor as my body shook and trembled and my world spun out of control. …I could have forgiven myself for fucking Gil in the wake of Jace's death—it was biological, after all. …Hadn't I spent half an hour rationalizing as much?—but I could not forgive myself for making love to another man two days after he had died to save our baby.


	80. Chapter 80

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry for the looong delay in posting. It's been quite the week. My fiance had a cousin who passed away last weekend, and that's dominated a lot of the week. Plus, it was his birthday on Wednesday (the fiance, not the cousin) and Sprinkles was stressed from us being gone so long and wasn't eating or coming out of her cage hardly at all... So between family time, calls to the vet and shopping trips for special foods, and the one night of celebrating... it was hard to fit in much time to write.

Anyway, thanks for all the reviews and let me know what you think! I'll try to get another chapter posted tonight but I've just joined GSR Forever Online and I'm slightly distracted trying to set up my fan fiction page there. :)

Enjoy!

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Chapter Eighty:

I don't know that I was even surprised. I mean, no, I wasn't expecting her to wriggle out from under me and run to the bathroom to cry seconds after we'd finished. But I had figured, once we came down and the afterglow wore off, that she would panic.

If I had given her what she wanted, we would probably be curled up asleep together, sweaty and sated. But I didn't want her to be untroubled by our encounter. I didn't want to be someone she used to get through her grief. …And I certainly didn't want to use her body myself.

So when she rushed off, I was not surprised, but I was hurt. I lay face down in her bed, the sheets slightly damp beneath me from the combined sweat of our bodies, marking where she had been only a moment before, still breathing heavily, listening to her wails through the wall. I waited for my breathing to slow and allowed myself a moment to contain my own grief, and then slowly sat up, getting to my feet and looking at the clothing that was spread across the floor. I turned on the light and quickly sorted them into two piles, depositing one outside the door of the bathroom and taking the other out into the living room. I emptied the duffle bag, pulled on clean underwear, and folded and replaced my dirty clothing in the bottom.

I had intended to go right back to bed, but… well, the idea of crawling back into either bed—Jace's, or Sara's, where I would only dwell on what had just happened… Instead, I picked my phone up, off the pile of clean clothing where it rested next to my toothbrush and migraine medication. I sat at the kitchen table, sighed, and called my voice mail, punching in the code and waiting.

"First New Message…" The voicemail recording told me, and I reached for my prescription bottle, sensing that I would quite shortly need it.

"Gil," It was Ecklie's voice. "Catherine said you had some kind of family emergency come up. Did you forget that you had a new CSI starting tonight? I don't care what bug convention called you last minute, you'd better get your ass in here ASAP."

Beep!

I rolled my eyes, opening the bottle, knowing that this was going to go on for a while… There was one from Catherine, telling me that Ecklie had gone off the deep end and maybe I should answer his phone calls… she said she hoped everything was alright, and that she'd keep trying to cover my ass, but she couldn't make any promises. There were several more of Ecklie spouting off, and then a gap of a few hours in which he had obviously gone home for the night. …The next message was from early that next morning. Strangely early. I frowned, waiting for the automated voice to finish, when Ayla started crying.

I frowned, glancing back at the bedroom. "Gil, Conrad again… Listen, this morning, at a scene—" The sound didn't stop, so I pulled the phone from my ear with a sigh, hanging up and moving back towards the room. The shower was now running in the bathroom, and I assumed Sara hadn't heard her. I moved more quickly, hurrying into the room and scooping her up, frowning at the tears slipping down her rounded cheeks. I wiped them away and rocked her gently back and forth, humming the only lullaby I knew—one my mother had sang to me, before she lost her hearing. I used to sing it to myself when I was younger, long after I knew she wouldn't anymore.

Ayla quieted quickly, her deep brown eyes locked on mine, watching me. I smiled wryly and sang the words instead, thinking that I knew firsthand how important it was. She wriggled in my arms until she was upright, her right arm around my neck and her head on my shoulder, my arm once again tucked in the crook of her knees. I swayed on my feet, singing for another moment, until her deep breathing and limp frame told me she was back to sleep. I felt a wave of pride course through me—it was the first time I had put her to sleep—and settled into the bed, laying down and gently scooting her body until her head was pressed to my chest instead.

I covered us both up, reflecting that this should be odd to me—sleeping with Jace's family in Jace's bed—but it wasn't. I understood Sara's emotions, but I was under no belief that I owed the man. Certainly I had wronged him in many ways, but he had also wronged me… If there was anything I had felt the night he died, it was that we were finally even… finally reaching a point in time where we might see eye to eye. And him asking me to take his place as Ayla's father… to never let her know what it was like to grow up missing a parent… I took it seriously. I had a greater understanding of Jace now.

His mother, I knew for a fact, had lived away from them for at least three years, possibly more, and apparently gone back to them after I no longer served her purpose. His desire to keep his 'family' together for the baby, especially when he truly loved Sara, was a response to having been a child in a broken home for a time and then going back to what he considered 'whole.' And his sense that offering ultimatums was natural and excusable when looking at the big picture… I knew Susan well enough to know exactly where he might have picked up that ideology. It was amazing that the man was not more controlling before I came along and threw their relationship into chaos.

And that desire to provide a complete home for the daughter he loved enough to die for had motivated him to ask the man he had hated—the man he had blamed for tearing his family apart twice over—to be the father she needed, because he knew I would love her like my own. …That I had already considered her mine, when she was only three months in the womb. It was a selfless act for his daughter, yes, but I understood something about Jace now… a tiny part of it was for him. He was able to die in peace, knowing that he wasn't leaving Ayla alone… even if it killed him to think that it would be me taking his place. The very best thing I could do to honor the man's memory was to fulfill his dying request and be certain Ayla had the family she deserved.

Whether Sara allowed me back into her heart or not, and I was under no disillusions that such a thing was inevitable, I had a little girl now. I wasn't backing away from it.

I stayed awake until she came back to bed. And she did come back. She had gone to change into new pajamas in her bedroom, and I had been certain as I listened to her move from bathroom to bedroom that she wouldn't return, but she did, hair a mass of wet curls around her shoulders. She paused in the doorway, peering into the darkness. She didn't speak to me, but she may have not seen that my eyes were open. She merely turned off the hall light, moved to the open side of the bed, and crawled in with us.

She was already up when I woke, and I found myself wondering if she had slept at all. Ayla was curled beside me and when I moved to get up, her eyes flickered open. I tried to get her back to sleep, but she was apparently up for the day… so I took her out to the main area of the house. Sara had coffee in front of her at the dining table and was already on the phone, so I took Ayla to the living room to change her. This time, I looked for a change of clothing in the diaper bag and found one. She had been in those pajamas all day yesterday.

I dressed her and moved to the kitchen, listening as Sara thanked someone over and over, tears now falling down her cheeks. There was already food out, as if Sara had been starting to make pancakes when something interrupted her. I slid Ayla into the highchair that had been left out from the previous day and picked up the bowl, stirring through it to determine which things still needed to be added to the boxed mix. It looked like she'd put everything in, so I set myself to stirring it while listening to Sara's words, trying to pick up what had her simultaneously so thankful and so emotional.

If I had to wager a guess, I'd say it was Jace's boss—the person Sara was now responsible for paying close to nine million back to. I had assumed as much—Ayla had become a media darling, despite Sara's best efforts to prevent it, and it wouldn't look good for a company that was so ingrained in the community to want to collect from a woman who clearly had no means to pay them back. Besides, from what I'd heard at the Crime Lab, they had enough influence in the city to get most of the money back, once it had been processed. Or, maybe the man really was just a nice guy.

Had he called her? Or would Sara have been so distracted with worry that she'd stop making food to go make a phone call? I checked the heat on the frying pan which had been left on, adjusted it slightly, and poured a medium dollop onto one side of the pan and two small dollops on the other, watching as they overlapped just slightly. My dad had always made me Mickey Mouse pancakes, too.

Sara hung up and glanced at me, a little awkwardly, before drinking too deeply from her coffee and coughing as she swallowed wrong. She wiped at her eyes and turned away from me while she finished coughing before getting up and moving into the kitchen, laying a kiss on Ayla's head again. "Listen, Gil—"

"Mama!" Ayla shouted. Sara's serious face turned into a bright smile as she beamed down at the little girl.

"Good Morning, Sweet Pea. Did you sleep well?"

"Dada?" She asked, ignoring her mother's question altogether, and Sara gasped and took a step backwards, the force of the simple, innocent question knocking her off balance.

I caught her, gently, afraid she was going to fall over, trying to offer some strength and reassurance… but she stiffened under the palms I laid on her shoulders and pulled away from me sharply, her eyes wide and almost wild. "Don't touch me." She said in a fervent, almost-whisper that had my heart breaking again.

"Sara—"

"Dada!" Ayla demanded with the pout of a child who was not used to being ignored. Sara trembled and her eyes filled again, so I moved forward, bending before Ayla's highchair and ignoring the protest my knees gave upon contact with the hard tile floor.

"…Ayla, sweetheart, Daddy went buh-bye."

Her little eyes narrowed in confusion. "Buh-bye?"

I nodded, in the back of my head thinking how impressed I was at how many words she already knew and seemed to fully understand. Then again, both of her parents had been impressively smart, and I knew for a fact that her grandmother, while twisted, had had more than her share of intelligence. "Yes, he went buh-bye to…" I hesitated, both wondering at Sara's reaction and Ayla's ability to understand, but I forged onward. "…to heaven."

Her lips puckered in obvious confusion and I sighed. "Daddy got bad owies, remember? He got bad owies and he had to go buh-bye."

"Dada buh-bye." She said, in a very small, very sad voice, and I felt tears in my eyes again. Even though I knew there was no way she could understand the permanence of my words, the sadness on her face as what she could only process as a temporary loss still tore me up. I knew that we would probably have this conversation many, many more times before it sunk in… and that she might never stop asking about it. I swallowed, trying to keep my own grief at bay—I had never truly witnessed death as it happened before Jace, and it was hard to think of, and harder still to convey to this innocent little girl.

"Gil." Sara said, and I glanced up at her. She sniffled, shaking her head. "I, uh…" She shook her head again and left the room, and I sighed, wondering what she had tried to say before she rushed off. The moment broken, however, I moved back to the stove, flipping the pancake that was a little too brown but thankfully still good, and glanced at Ayla who for once was very still. She did not bang on her tray or babble… she still had tight eyes and a definitive pout on her lips. I averted my eyes, trying to reassure myself that most things got harder before they got easier.


	81. Chapter 81

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for the wonderful reviews. I promise some happy GSR is coming soon. Before Jace's funeral. :) In the next chapter or two. Cross my heart.

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Chapter Eighty One:

I finally got through to Jace's boss the next day… and when I explained that though the man had not taken the money, the crime lab was unlikely to release it, he was more than understanding. I tried to set up a payment plan—I could make a good deal of money working as a consultant for a big-name defense attorney, catching Crime Labs making small mistakes that would cost them convictions… even if it meant I'd be selling my soul in the process. Not only did the man insist that he would accept nothing of the sort—he had his connections with the Boston Crime Lab and was confident that he could get most of it back, once they were finished processing and documenting—he suggested, once I explained the twisted mechanisms which had brought Jace and I to this place, that I sue Jace's old company for forcing Jace to make the shady deal in the first place. Sue them for the wages Ayla and I wouldn't be receiving, and the benefits, and the personal heartache with involved in the loss.

…I couldn't see myself doing any such thing, but the kindness in the man's voice—suggesting I use a company lawyer, free of charge, to take my case—and genuine sincerity when he told me he was sorry for my loss… I felt an extreme weight lift off me.

I mean, it might have been in large part because I would no longer owe the man just around nine million dollars, but the sentiment was genuinely moving as well.

When I got off the phone, Gil was already in the kitchen, finishing the pancakes I'd abandoned as soon as the clock on the microwave had indicated that it was eight thirty and I thought I stood a chance of finding Jace's old boss in the office. I was uncomfortable seeing him after the previous night—he'd been asleep with Ayla on his chest when I'd finally emerged from the burning shower with a somewhat clearer head. The sight of him curled up with my baby brought tears to my eyes and I'd been grateful that I could crawl in with him without him knowing. I had scooted close, though not enough to wake him, grateful for his presence and too exhausted at this point to feel guilty for that, though I knew it would come in the morning.

I hadn't slept, and had gotten up around five when the guilt I'd predicted started to creep in with the morning sunlight. I had spent the morning scrubbing down the house, because it calmed me, and by the time I'd started the pancakes, I knew exactly what I was going to say to Jace's boss. I couldn't have imagined things would go so well.

And yet, as soon as I was off the phone, I was so nervous that I made a fool of myself. It took a minute to regain composure, but I forced myself to move into the kitchen to simply tell Gil that I was sorry for the previous night and that I understood why he hadn't let me do what I wanted, but either way, it couldn't happen again. Ayla, however, captured my attention first… and asked about Jace.

Watching Gil step up when I could not—when the tears burned my eyes and the words stuck in my throat—telling her about Daddy having owies and going buh-bye to heaven… I fell more deeply in love with him than ever. He would be such a wonderful father and I already knew what a wonderful man he was. My guilt grew exponentially. I opened my mouth, again intending to discuss the previous night… this time to tell him that, in lieu of what had happened, I didn't think it was a good idea that we stay in the same house. The problem was, I couldn't stand the idea of him leaving… I would fall apart. As much as I hated myself and him for it, I needed him here to keep me together and to take care of my Ayla…

I ran from the room, not ready to confront all of this yet.

It felt like I was always doing that—running from him. Running away from everything on my plate and running away from the emotions I couldn't handle. It was just too much to stomach and…

A knock on the door stopped my train of thought. I held my breath, wondering who it could be this early… and when I heard my father-in-law's voice from the front of the house, with Gil's meeting it a moment later… I knew I couldn't leave him out there to deal with whatever was happening now, even though I sincerely wanted to lock the door and bury my head in my pillows.

I wiped at my face, my cheeks raw from the excessive amount of crying I had given in to since Ayla had been kidnapped, straightened the t-shirt and pajama bottoms I had put on after my shower the night before, and forced myself out of my bedroom and back into the fray.

Everyone was there. Jace's entire family, sans Suzanne. Ayla was picking up pieces of pancake and piling them into her mouth, while Grissom stood there uncertainly, meeting my gaze and silently beseeching me for help. I swallowed, knowing how uncomfortable this was for him, and addressed Jace's father. "…Hi."

He gave me a warm smile, which told me that he didn't know who Gil was… which told me that Suzanne wasn't talking. They probably didn't know why she had really tried to kill herself…they didn't know anything. "Hey, honey." He moved forward, tucking me against his body in a warm embrace. "I'm so sorry we haven't been around. Between everything happening with Anne and then Jace… we know we should have been here, helping you out with Ayla. How are you doing?"

The truth was that I was barely coping and I knew that as much was obvious just from my appearance, but I nodded against his shoulder anyway. "…I'm okay."

He shook his head as he pulled back, knowing that it wasn't true. "No, you're not. And listen, Anne told us about Jace taking all the money you guys had to try to get our little Ayla back… we'll take care of his funeral, okay?"

I shook my head this time. "No… Jace had a life-insurance policy. I mean, it wasn't very big… we thought we were being over-careful… but it should take care of the funeral costs, at least…"

"No," he said firmly. "You aren't working full time and with Jace's death you and Ayla are out medical insurance… we're taking care of the funeral, and you keep the money for you and Ayla. That's what it's there for. …And if you need any more than that, you just let us know, okay? We're still family… I already lost a son, I don't want to lose a daughter too."

I felt tears coming again, and I didn't know what to do with his words… he wouldn't think that when he knew that for a year and a half of Jace and I's short marriage I had wanted to divorce him, take his child, and go be with another man… a man who was also the student his wife had left him to seduce, years and years previous. I swallowed and nodded, because what else could I do?

He gave me a hug. "Listen… why don't you take a day to sleep and relax, okay? I'm going to meet with someone about funeral arrangements… Do you two have a burial plot or do you want us to fly him out to the family plot—which, of course, we'll save a spot beside him for you, honey—in San Francisco or…?"

I swallowed. I felt dizzy with the thought. "…We don't… we don't have anything. The family plot…"

"Okay." He kissed my forehead. "I'll make all the arrangements… will you friend need a flight as well?" He turned to Gil. "Anne told me that you were a forensics colleague of Sara's and that you flew out to help find Ayla… I can't begin to describe the gratitude our family feels for you. We'd be more than happy to fly you out there or to fly you home…"

"No," Gil shook his head, his eyes wide at the prospect of Susan and her husband paying for anything for him. "No, I, uh… I'll take care of it. Thank you though." I could tell by his expression that he was surprised at how kind the man was, compared to how awful his wife was.

He smiled at Gil and nodded, "Well, if you change your mind… Sara," he said, looking back to me. "Why don't you let the girls take Ayla for the day? You can get some rest, deal with whatever you need to…" I was already nodding, thinking that I could start sorting through the house Ayla and I couldn't afford anymore and call a realtor to sell it, "…and they can take Ayla to see Grandma Anne. She's been so worried about her."

Then I was shaking my head, trembling, uncertain how to tell him that while I loved him and would allow Ayla's aunts to spend time with her, that woman was never, ever to see my child again. Gil stepped in. "You know, I've kind of been taking care of Ayla so that Sara can grieve and manage their affairs, and I've noticed that if Ayla is out of sight too long, she gets really worried… almost like she's having an anxiety attack. I really think it's too soon for Ayla to be away all day."

"Oh," Jace's father said, his face displaying remorse that this hadn't occurred to him first. Another stab of guilt. "I should have realized… I'm so sorry, Sara, of course. …Well, maybe the girls could stay for a while anyway? …They missed Ayla and I'm sure Gil could use a rest as well."

I nodded then, wiping at my tears, and he gave me another hug, saying goodbye and hurrying from the room. Each of Jace's sisters came to hug me, in turn, and I returned the hug before sighing heavily. "He's right… I've got a lot of things to think about now. Are you sure you guys don't mind playing with her here?"

And when I was assured that that was exactly what they wanted, I nodded and retreated to my bedroom, feeling guilty for leaving Gil with them but also needing to address something else I hadn't thought of, which Jace's father had pointed out—no more medical insurance via Jace's company. I needed a prescription filled and Ayla needed regular care. There was just so much to do and I really wasn't sure how I was going to handle any of it.

I made some calls—there would be a realtor coming later in the day to take pictures of the house and to do a market analysis. I spoke to our insurance company and discovered that Ayla and I would be covered until the end of the month, which was a small miracle. I spoke to someone about Jace's life insurance and I called a friend of Jace's who worked at a car dealership in town about selling all but the oldest vehicle. After Jace's funeral, I would have to come pack up and go apartment hunting, but as long as I could find a place and sell everything within the month, I figured we'd be okay. The University, which had just rehired me after my PPD caused me to get fired, would surely have heard about this on the news… there was every reason to believe they knew why I hadn't been reachable and that I would still have a job when I managed to deal with all of this.

I went back out into the main area to find that Gil had left the girls with Ayla and retreated to Jace's room. I made myself a bowl of cereal while the girls played with her, and was relieved when Ayla started getting sleepy and I was able to politely say I'd feed her and put her down and could they let themselves out? It wasn't that I hated them or didn't want them to see her, but they made me nervous and if I didn't have anything I planned to take care of this moment… I would prefer them to go.

And once they had left, I hesitated outside Jace's room before sighing and turning towards mine. Once inside I pulled off my t-shirt which was less than conducive to nursing and leaned back against the headboard, letting Ayla take a breast in her mouth while I closed my eyes in exhaustion. It had been a long time since I'd gone a night without sleep—my antidepressants had had the unexpected side effect of all but curing my insomnia—but now that my body wasn't used to it, it was hitting me hard. I sighed deeply, not meaning to sleep, but to just take a quiet moment to myself while Ayla nursed. I wondered what Gil was doing in Jace's room… I wondered if he knew Jace's sisters were gone. I wondered if he were thinking about me and what he thought of our encounter the night before and I wondered what would have happened if I had left the cruise ship with Gil rather than Jace…

I fell asleep, feeling guilty and yet still indulging in imagining a life where Jace was alive, Ayla had never been kidnapped, but in which the two had never met and Ayla called Gil 'Dada' instead.


	82. Chapter 82

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Last angsty chapter. Well, I mean... there are still lots of loose ends to tie up, but we're at a turning point in their relationship. I hope that reassures, I know lots of you have kind of hit a wall when it comes to sadness. :)

Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

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Chapter Eighty Two:

I found Sara and Ayla both asleep.

Sara was leaned back against her headboard in only a bra and jeans, one breast fully exposed, Ayla cradled against her somewhat awkwardly because of how big she was. …It was a moment like I had dreamed of seeing for so long that I had to stop in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat as the emotion of it hit me. When I was able to force myself forward, I gently slid Sara down the bed, holding her head until it rested on the pillows. It was a testament to how exhausted she must be that she didn't even stir. I scooted Ayla into the open space on the inside of the bed and took a moment to adjust Sara's clothing so that she was covered before climbing into the other side.

I wasn't tired—I had slept the previous night, though I was willing to guess that Sara hadn't—but I knew that grief did exhausted the body and the mind and that even if Sara were sleeping as much as she ought to be, she would probably still feel spent. Instead I allowed myself to bask in the quiet intimacy of watching both her and Ayla sleep.

Sara woke first, and though I expected awkwardness if not open hostility, she merely seemed comforted that I was there. She scooped Ayla up to her almost-bare chest and rolled her over until her back was to me and Ayla was on her other side, and then she scooted both of them back until her back came in contact with my chest.

I wrapped my arms around them, feeling elated that she had chosen to initiate some contact no matter how innocent and gently ran my hands over her arms until she was more awake. In silence, she turned her head to look at me over her shoulder and when I leaned closer, almost unconsciously, just wanting that closeness, she kissed my lips softly and then turned away again with a heavy sigh, almost like she was resigning herself to something.

…What was that, exactly? Was she resigning herself to the fact that I wouldn't go away so she might as well submit? Was she resigning herself to the fact that she still loved me, despite feeling guilty for it? Was she resigned to accepting the comfort and intimacy I offered simply because she needed it and it was too hard to keep avoiding me? Was she simply resigned that fighting anything right now was beyond her, whether she wanted it or not?

She stretched after several more long moments and turned to me. "…Take out?"

I nodded, still rolling around my uncertainties in my mind and she sat up more fully. "…I, uh… I'm gonna grab some boxes from the basement. Start packing up."

I frowned. "…What do you mean?"

She gave me an utterly soft look. "…Without Jace's income, we can't afford to keep the house. Once the funeral is over, Ayla and I are going to have to find an apartment."

I positively scowled this time. I knew that she had been rejecting my advances, kind and comforting and well-intentioned though they were, but for some reason it had never occurred to me that she would stay in Boston. She didn't have any roots here… not really. I mean, she'd gone to school here for a while, but she didn't have family here… I guess I hadn't really thought out what she would do. I hadn't even considered leaving the lab to live in Boston and be Ayla's Daddy, and yet I hadn't pictured them moving to Vegas either. In my mind, I hadn't made the leap beyond the moment in which we were both here.

"…Move to Vegas with me." I said, impulsively, simply because that was simplest—I couldn't imagine leaving the lab, I already had a home in Vegas. She turned to me, startled, and I realized the folly of my bluntness. She had the wary look in her eyes again, no longer looking resigned to anything. Her lips in a tight line, she shook her head.

"No… I have a job here. Ayla loves her teachers at daycare. …We'll manage."

And then she was out of the room again. If only I could get her to stay in the same room with me for an extended period of time in which we were both awake.

With my own sigh of resignation, I moved out to the kitchen, found a Chinese takeout menu, and ordered for all of us, getting lots of rice and vegetables because I wasn't sure what else Ayla could have. …I would have to do some additional research to be up to par on this whole fathering thing. As I was hanging up the phone, Sara moved past me with a stack of collapsed boxes covered in dust, headed towards Jace's room. I followed her, knowing that it wouldn't be easy to pack his things away—my mother, to this day, had one of the closets in her bedroom filled with his things, including the presents she had given him for every birthday and Christmas and Father's Day after he'd died. I knew that Sara's relationship to Jace was not the relationship my parents had had, but still…

I sat on the bed while she moved over to the bookcase he had in here. It seemed like a strange place, but when I reflected back to the living room, I realized there wasn't any available space out there. She reassembled one of the boxes and taped the bottom for good measure, still not wearing a shirt and not speaking to me, focused on the task at hand. I watched her, noting the lines of stress on her face and the hard line of her mouth—clearly, she was just trying to get through it.

I briefly considered helping her, but the stern look that met my tentative, "Sara…" told me to let it go. She turned away and I bit back a sigh, watching as she opened a second and then a third box, sorting books between them. She had emptied three rows when she slowed. The moment was sudden—one moment she was moving fluidly and efficiently and the next she was carefully perusing each book, as if something had occurred to her. She even pulled out a book or two and glanced over them, paging through them, before replacing them in the box and continuing.

I frowned, uncertainly, watching her and wanting to ask what exactly she was looking for but also not wanting to disturb her again. I had just about worked up the courage to ask her when Ayla's cries broke the stillness of the room. She looked up at me, beseechingly, and I understood that whatever she was looking for was vital to her… she no longer looked irritated or annoyed or like she was simply forcing herself to complete the task—she was looking for something, and it was something she needed. I nodded and moved out of the room, leaving her to her task and moving to take the child.

Ayla was sitting up in Sara's big bed with large tears moving down her cheeks and a look at me had her wailing louder. "Da-Da!" She said, and screamed louder when I picked her up, her little hands pushing me away. From the way her little frame was trembling, I would have bet just about anything that she'd just had a nightmare… possibly about Jace's death. More than understandable, but I didn't know what to do about it. I pressed her to my shoulder and though her cries got even louder, she allowed it, no longer pushing me away, her little tears soaking their way through the shoulder of my shirt.

I bounced her gently and moved out to the living room, searching and finally finding a picture of her and Jace together. I sat on the couch and moved her until she was sitting with her legs between mine, still leaning sideways against my chest, and held the picture for her to see. Her cries stuttered and she hiccupped, her little fists coming to wipe the tears from her eyes repeatedly, her body still shaking and the occasional sob breaking through her lips, the tears still falling even as she wipes them away. And finally, she reached out and pointed a small finger at Jace's laughing face in the picture, her bottom lip stuck out. "Dada…"

I smiled and laid a kiss to her temple, speaking softly. "…You're right, Ayla. That is Daddy. …And he loved you… more than anything in the world, sweetheart. Daddy loved you and he misses you."

"Love." She repeated, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes again.

"Yes. Daddy loved you. …It's okay to be sad." I blinked at the ceiling, trying to reign in my own emotion—I hated knowing how much pain she was in. She looked at me, her big eyes creasing in a frown and then she gave me a hug, giving me the distinct impression that she had seen my own emotion and was attempting to comfort _me_. That knowledge had me clutching her to me, wondering if it were even possible for such a small child to be aware of such things…

I reigned in my emotions in time to hear the doorbell ring and go retrieve our food and pay the man. Ayla reached out for the bag and it wasn't hot so I let her carry it, with one hand still on it, of course, over to the kitchen counter… at which point I realized that sweet and sour sauce had spilled inside the bag and was not only all over my shirt but all over Ayla's pajamas and hands… which had once again gone to wipe her eyes, leaving red smears around her eyes like a parody of a raccoon.

I chuckled, unable to be upset when she blinked at me so sweetly, unaware. I quickly pulled the cartons out and set them on plates to contain whatever sauce was stuck on their bottoms and disposed of the bag and the cracked sweet and sour container and, once done with that, glanced over Ayla again.

"You need a bath." I informed her very seriously.

She gave me a cheesy grin, already recovered from the sadness of a moment ago. "Ba!"

I smiled, wondering if I were simply hearing words when she was only babbling or if she really knew this many. "Yep, let's go take a bath." In the hallway, I called, "Sara! The food's here. I'm gonna give Ayla a quick bath, we had a sweet and sour mishap, but you can go dig in…"

Her answer was a little delayed. "…Okay. Thanks." I wondered if she had found what she was looking for, and pursed my lips, considering making a detour from the bath to see her… but a moment later I heard her walk past the open doorway of the bathroom, headed towards the kitchen.

If she was getting food, she had to be okay. My questions could wait. I pulled off my own stained and sticky shirt and hurried through the bath, watching Ayla splash in delight, and then drained the tub and wrapped her up in a towel. I knew she didn't have any clean clothes in her diaper bag, but Sara had avoided Ayla's room and I had followed her example. I frowned, but finally decided that I could at least get her into a diaper and ask Sara what she wanted.

When we reached the living room, however, Sara was not eating… all the food was resting exactly as I'd left it, and I knew that she hadn't passed the bathroom door again. I frowned, glancing around the room one more time to be sure I hadn't missed her, and then took the dripping Ayla with me to check if she was in the basement, getting more boxes. That would be very like Sara…

But when I found the door closed and the light off… I knew she had gone. I didn't know where she was going and though I didn't believe she would ever leave Ayla, I had no idea when she would be back.


	83. Chapter 83

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: I figured you guys had suffered through all my sad chapters, so you deserved a little happiness tonight. :)

Also, ff won't let me have words crossed out, so the ones underlined are supposed to be crossed out. Just so you know.

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Chapter Eighty Three:

_"…I feel like… like I wish we had ended it before we got married. …We could have ended it on good terms and… and looked at our relationship as one of the happiest times in our lives. …Just because I'm in love with him doesn't mean I don't love you, Jace. It's just… it's not the same. …It's not enough."_

_He swallowed. "…But now… you won't look back and say that… that you were happy with me?"_

_I smiled softly. "…Believe me, I could never forget how happy you made me, no matter what we do to each other or… or how ugly things have gotten."_

_"Sara… I, uh… I wanted to tell you… I've been trying for weeks. …Months, really. I… I wrote it all down, it's in this book of poetry in my room. Sara… I…" Another tear slid down his face. "I don't… want you to hate me. Sara, I just… I love you so much. And I… I want—"_

And then Gil had knocked on the door, and our conversation had been cut short. I remembered the moment with a jolt of clarity, realizing that I had expected that he would simply finish what he'd been trying to tell me after we found Ayla. And now, I started digging through his collections of poetry, uncertain in which volume I would find whatever he had meant to tell me, but feeling like I absolutely had to find it now. It was like he was reaching back from beyond the grave to tell me something. Ayla started crying, and the desperate look I gave Gil must have spoke volumes because he simply nodded and went to take her while I continued looking through the books, uncertain if I was looking for an envelope or a folded slip of paper or something written directly on a page…

I listened as her cries softened and smiled to myself, thinking how sweet Gil had been with her, and with a jolt of surprise felt an envelope, unsealed, fall out of the book I had just been flipping to. On the outside, in Jace's messy scrawl, was my name. When I turned it over, the words _Talking In Bed by Philip Larkin_ were penned along the bottom. I wasn't certain if they were for me or simply a note for himself, but I turned to the book in my hands and checked the table of contents. The poem was in this book, and located near the end, where the envelope had fallen from. I turned there, pursing my lips, my heart pounding in my chest and my hands starting to shake as I started to read.

**_Talking In Bed_**_  
__Talking in bed ought to be easiest,  
Lying together there goes back so far,  
An emblem of two people being honest.  
Yet more and more time passes silently.  
Outside, the wind's incomplete unrest  
Builds and disperses clouds in the sky,  
And dark towns heap up on the horizon.  
None of this cares for us. Nothing shows why  
At this unique distance from isolation  
It becomes still more difficult to find  
Words at once true and kind,  
Or not untrue and not unkind. _

I felt tears stinging my eyes and wiped at them impatiently, feeling like now was not the time to break down. I bit at my bottom lip, thinking of how often in that first year of marriage we had sat in bed silently. It was not the comfortable silence that we had shared more than our number of times… it was the silence of having nothing to say. The silence that hangs between two people who would rather bury themselves in books and magazines they have no interest in rereading for the hundredth time rather than be forced to try to speak to one another. And clearly, Jace had been thinking about that time… he had felt it too. Felt the way it took effort to interact… felt like our love making had been almost contrived, because we both wanted a baby so badly.

I closed my eyes, reminding how prior to our marriage I had felt like he was too busy to attend to my needs and then in the months afterwards, he had seemed to be constantly touching and trying to initiate, to my great annoyance. The first time we made love after our actual wedding night had indeed been months later, and only after a good deal of wining and dining and seduction… He had worked so hard just to get me to allow him to love me.

I felt the tears spill over as the guilt came once again and I dropped the envelope three separate times in an attempt to open it and pull out the paper. The lines of his writing had me crying again and I set the paper down to wipe at my eyes so that I wouldn't smear the ink before I had a chance to read it. Finally, finally, I picked up the piece of paper and looked down at it, my breath coming raggedly. There were many cross-outs and revisions, and yet I blessed each ink blotted correction penned in his heavy hand.

_Sara,_

I'm not even certain what I'm trying to say to you, but I know that it needs to be said. I know that this has gone on far too long. _I thought that if you just gave us a chance__ I never meant to hurt you. Please know that. I… __I wanted Ayla to have the best life we could give her and… __I've never loved anyone like I love you, Sara. I wanted Ayla to have a family, but more than that, I wanted you to feel about me the way I felt about you. I wanted to be loved that way, __and I think even before Gil came along, I knew you didn't but… __I can't begin to tell you how I felt when I first read this poem. It was like reading a moment from our lives and realizing I had convinced myself that it was okay when it wasn't. …It was never okay. I wanted you to try for us, and I didn't realize that you'd already been trying for months before you saw him again. …Ayla was a part of that. Not that you didn't want her, but… I remember how badly you wanted her. How hard we tried. __…How it didn't seem like you even wanted me until we were trying to conceive.__ …Having Ayla was your attempt to make things okay. I know that now._

…I know it's going to kill me to actually give this to you—this has to be the fifteenth time I've written it out. But every time, the thought of giving you up makes me tear it up and commit myself to trying harder. Being a better husband and father and telling myself that eventually you'd come around. _…If you'd just try __I know it isn't that easy. It's hard to admit, but I do know. So I want you to know that I… I would never take Ayla from you. It was an empty threat made because I couldn't imagine anything worse than losing you. …Living with you when you're miserable is worse. Watching you fall apart when you were going through PPD… that was worse. And I know that I'm partly to blame for it. …Go be with him, if he's what will make you happy, and… __Maybe he can move to Boston or __I'm sure I could find a job in__ Just please don't take her from me. …Please, don't keep her from me—she's all I'll have left and I don't know how I could go on if I had to live without the both of you. I'm letting you go, Sara. …I can't ever tell you how sorry I am, __but know that it was honestly done out of love.__ I'll love you forever._

Jace

I set the letter down, overwhelmed, and wiped at my streaming eyes again, trying to get my bearings and trying to gain control of my senses. I was in complete disbelief that this is what he'd wanted to tell me… that he'd been trying for so long to let me go. That, as much as he was able, he had given his blessing for Gil and I to be happy. I wiped the tears from my hands to my jeans and make an extra swipe at my cheeks for good measure before rereading the letter, feeling myself get lighter and lighter as I did. I still felt guilty that I had been the cause of so much heartbreak before he died, but he had wanted me to be happy… and his dying request had been that Gil make sure Ayla always had a daddy. I breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in days, blinking and glancing around the room, noticing that the colors in the room seemed much more vibrant than they had just moments before.

I leapt to my feet, thinking that I would run to Gil and kiss him… tell him how much I loved him and how sorry I was and… and then what? I'd go to my husband's funeral on the arm of another man? Jace's mother hadn't told any of them the truth about Gil and I or about Gil and her… she kept my secret if I kept hers. I had understood as much intrinsically, when Jace's father had told us what he knew of Gil… but I hadn't put it properly into context. She would have a claim on Ayla as long as Gil and I were together. Not legally binding, as Jace's had been, but still more than I was willing to take. …Unless I could beat her to the punch. …I was going to fight for the family I wanted and Ayla deserved and Jace had tried to provide her on his last breaths.

Gil called that food was here and he was giving Ayla a bath, but I barely heard him. I had thrown on one of Jace's t-shirts and was walking swiftly past their doorway, out of the house, and outside… at some point in the last few days, both Jace and I's vehicles had been returned from the warehouse.

I moved over to mine, realizing with some surprise that the letter and book were both still clutched in my hands. I freed one hand and pulled the door open, reaching under the front seat and finding my keys placed there neatly. I set the letter and book on the passenger seat and took off, belatedly pulling my cell phone out of my pocket and calling Jace's father's number.

"Hello?"

"Are you guys all at the hospital?"

"I… yes. Sara, are you okay?" It must have been something in my voice. I swallowed.

"I'm alright. I'm driving there now… I need to talk to the whole family."

"…Okay, honey. We'll be waiting."

I parked haphazardly, glancing at my reflection and briefly lamenting that I hadn't taken the time to run a brush through my hair—Gil must really love me to still want me when I'd been in this rough of shape for how long. I pocketed my keys and combed through my hair with my fingers. No one spared me a glance when I moved through the lobby to the elevators and pressed the button for the psychiatric ward.

They were all in the little waiting room and looked at me expectantly when I rushed in, knowing that I had to look a sight and yet feeling the power of my certainty drive me forward. They were the only people in the room, except for the nurse at the desk beside the hallway leading back to patients' rooms. I drew in a deep breath and noticed for the first time that the shirt still smelled like Jace. That, too, gave me strength.

"…There's a lot that you guys don't know. …And you have a right to know it, because it affects everything."

They all frowned in confusion and I braced myself. "…When I was only three months pregnant, I wanted to leave Jace. I was going to divorce him."

They all looked surprised, but I kept my eyes on Jace's father—the one member of his family I had always had the best relationship with. The one whose understanding I had needed. He watched me intently, but did not speak… one of Jace's sisters, instead, broke the silence. "Why?"

I swallowed, my gaze flickering to her and then back to the man before me. "…I fell in love with someone else." His eyes crinkled in pain, and I sighed. "But I… as soon as I understood what was going on, I tried to tell him that even though he meant the world to me, the relationship wasn't what I wanted anymore."

"And then he started making the big bucks and you thought you'd stick around?" Another sister asked incredulously. I frowned, but forced myself to be patient.

"No… he blackmailed me into staying. Threatened to take Ayla from me. …Nevermind how." I added, seeing their mouths open in the question. I ran a hand through my hair. "The point of this is… that's who Gil is. I fell in love with him and he did come to help but… but there's more to it than that. When he was here… when Su—Anne… when she got here… they already knew each other."

They looked between each other—Jace's father spoke first. "…How?"

I saw in his eyes that he already knew—they betrayed his sadness, and he had already assessed the age of the man in question. He was as smart as his son had been. I swallowed. "She… He was a student of hers, during the time she left you guys. …She used him, seduced him… manipulated him."

I closed my eyes when the stream of protests came from the girls, not caring enough about what they had to say or about countering it—and when it stopped, I opened them to see Jace's dad's arms up, quieting them. "…How old is Gil, Sara?" He asked me, and it occurred to me that maybe he didn't know everything…

I swallowed again, my mouth unbelievably dry. "He's… he was nineteen, when she seduced him. She was his first."

He looked surprised at the age—appalled, really—but not at his wife's actions. While his daughters raised objections in defense of their mother and in simple disbelief, he met my eyes with certainty. He may not have known, before she left them, what kind of woman she was… but he knew now. Had he stayed with her because he loved her in spite of it, or simply because he didn't believe in divorce? Or to keep their family together? He cleared his throat.

"…You want our blessing to be with this man." He said, rather than asked. And though I hadn't realized that it was what I had been seeking—I had only meant to preempt the woman threatening to spill the beans at an inopportune time, like Jace's funeral or a family Christmas… or when Ayla was old enough to understand and be upset by it. If you didn't have secrets, after all, they couldn't be exploited.

But I found myself nodding, and clarifying. "…Yours." Not my awful mother-in-law or Jace's sisters who were miniature versions of her, with the exception, perhaps, of the sexual dysfunction… but the man who had asked me to call him 'dad' and meant it.

He lowered his chin once in a slow nod. "You have it."

There was an outcry from the girls, but I didn't hear it. Though I had felt unbelievably lighter after reading Jace's letter, I felt a further burden lifting and found my lips twisting into a small smile. "…I don't ever want her to see Ayla again." I said, surprising myself with the serious turn. It felt like I couldn't accept his blessing before he knew my limits.

Once again, our eyes met, and I saw him read in them the horrors I had heard about her and the things I knew I might never hear, and then he nodded again. "Understood." I sighed in relief and though the man's eyes seemed sad and serious, he offered me a small smile, stood, and offered out his arms. I fell into them and he rocked me gently. Into my ear, he murmured softly, "…I'm sorry for the things my family has done to you," so that only I could hear. I pulled back a little, looking into his eyes.

"…He wanted to let me go. He just didn't know how." His eyes told me that while our situations were worlds apart, he understood what it was like to be unable to let someone go—in that moment I knew that he loved her, her faults and dysfunctions and manipulations an all, and he didn't like himself for it… but he couldn't help it. I hugged him tightly again. "He was more like you than her. …I miss him so much."

I felt a sob reverberate through his chest, though it never reached the surface, and he clutched me tighter. "Me too, honey… me too."

I left, after reassuring him that he and the girls could see Ayla whenever they wanted, as long as they respected my wishes that Ayla never see her grandmother again. Jace's sisters were still mad at me, but truth be told I hadn't come for them—I realized that now. And finally feeling free—for the first time in years, really—I headed home to find Gil… to tell him everything that had happened… to beg him to forgive me for the past few days and let me love him the way he deserved to be loved. I wouldn't say that I was happy, precisely—Jace's death still hung over me heavily, inescapable—but I no longer felt trapped or inconsolable. For the first time, I was dealing with my grief. …For the first time, I was looking into the future and thinking about happiness, instead of just survival.


	84. Chapter 84

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: A glance back at the previous chapter made me realize that while I tried to underline all the lines of Jace's letter that were supposed to be crossed out, I failed. So if it seemed like a thought was started and never finished, that was probably why. I'll go back and fix it tomorrow... too tired tonight. :) Sooo, I'm off to bed.

Thanks for the reviews, as always, they mean the world to me! Enjoy!

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Chapter Eighty Four:

Not knowing where Sara had gone or when she would be back, I took a moment to consider my options, and decided that Ayla and I would eat. If she wasn't back by the time we finished, I would call her. …I wasn't mad, per se, just absolutely bewildered. I knew that she was dealing with a lot and that she might need some space to deal with it, but I didn't know what to do in the meantime… what my role was, here.

I moved the highchair into the dining room, next to my seat, and buckled her into it. I found a bib and sat beside her, dishing up our meals simultaneously—sweet and sour chicken, sans the sweet and sour we'd had to throw, that I cut up small for her, rice (she got white, I took the fried), and lots of vegetables. I briefly considered the Lo Mein noodles and then gave her a few to taste, hoping that that would be alright. She ate everything like she was starving and I realized with some surprise that she hadn't had lunch—instead of her usual two naps, today she had slept straight through the afternoon.

I eyed her more closely, hoping she was just catching up on sleep or going through a growth spurt or… anything to indicate that she was not sleeping as a reaction to grief the way I knew Sara probably was, but she just smiled at me, her curls still wet about her head. I picked at my food, giving Ayla seconds when she cleared the tray. I cleaned her up and pulled her, only clad in a diaper, into my arms, finally making the decision that I would have to go into her room for clothes. We changed into pajamas, read a bedtime story, and though I didn't have the ability to give her a bottle—I found no milk in the freezer—she didn't seem like she needed it. She closed her heavy eyes and slipped easily to sleep. I wondered if Sara had been weaning her…

I put the girl in the middle of Jace's bed, as it was the largest, and put a pillow on either side of her, hoping this would prevent a fall. I didn't like the idea of letting her sleep in the crib from which she'd been taken. I turned off the lights and moved out, cleaning up from our supper and moving the takeout cartons into the fridge uncertainly, wondering what could possibly be keeping Sara so long. I mean, considering traffic, it wasn't like she'd been gone an unreasonable length of time… but it was longer than I liked, and it had me trying to imagine what on earth she could have found in Jace's room to send her running like that.

I finally seated myself on the couch and had no sooner picked up the remote than the sound of a car door reached my ears from the driveway. I felt a tightening in my chest and drew a deep breath, uncertain and feeling almost frightened. Sara had been on a rollercoaster of emotions in the last few days and I didn't like not knowing what to expect when she came in. The front door opened and closed and I listened, willing my heart to slow and my breathing to steady so I could listen.

Keys to table. Something else to table. Shoes being sloughed off. A gentle sigh. Bare feet on carpet, moving closer.

I glanced up in time to see her enter the room. Our eyes met, and I knew in the moment that something fundamental had changed—her eyes told me that much. The Sara walking towards me now was not the Sara who had rushed out that front door earlier today, but I wasn't sure if I knew who she was now either. I dug my fingers into the fabric of the couch beneath me, bracing myself, unconsciously holding my breath as she got closer and closer, waiting.

I expected her to stop and stand in front of me… take the seat beside me… something in which she had to stop moving. But she didn't—she didn't stop and before I realized what she was doing she had placed a knee on one side of my lap and was sliding up to straddle my thighs. I looked at her in surprise and alarm, our eyes locking in intensity for one immeasurable moment before she had dipped her head and caught my lips in what was simultaneously the most gentle and yet most powerful kiss we had ever shared. It sent chills through me and yet heated me from my core out. My trembling hands stilled on her hips, finding reassurance there even as my heart fluttered in disbelief.

She pulled back, exhaling her words in a rush. "I'm sorry… I haven't been… I wasn't… I felt…" She stopped, a pucker in her lips very like Ayla's telling me that she wasn't certain how to finish her own sentence, but the sincerity was clear. I smiled softly, letting my hand slide up her spine slowly, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of her neck when I reached it, gently bending her into another kiss. This one was gentle too, but it wasn't a kiss for sitting still… a kiss of a moment. No, it was a building kiss… it was going somewhere and the heat in my spine told me exactly where.

I tried to reign myself in, pull back from her, be the voice of reason—after all, she had been rather erratic lately… How could I be certain that she wouldn't change her mind again?—but she tugged me closer, held me tighter, delved in deeper… and none of her movements implied that she needed to lose herself in someone's arms. …They implied that she felt she had been away from mine too long. It was a feeling I understood all too well and I let myself get wrapped up in it.

I breathed in her scent, warm and sweet and a little sad but overwhelmingly like home, opened my eyes in the kiss to take in the sight of her fluttering lashes, delighted in the feel of my fingers in her hair and my broad hand slipping under her t-shirt to press against the small of her back, delighting in the dip in her spine immediately before the rise of her tailbone. I rubbed it softly, enjoying the light shudder of her body against me and the goose bumps breaking out beneath my fingertips. I pulled back, a little desperately, finding myself out of breath.

"…I love you. Sara, I'm sorry about... I called and… I thought… but I was wrong and I… I love you so much, sweetheart."

The words had tumbled out of their own accord and the tears shining in her eyes made me wonder if I had misspoken and ruined this… but she sniffled and nodded. "I know, baby. I love you too. …I was never unfaithful to you… never…"

When we met to kiss again there was fire in it and I found myself clutching her to me, needing to feel every inch of her… needing to rediscover her and know that she was really mine… really wanted me. Without even thinking about it, I was tugging her shirt off her small frame and laying kisses across the expanse of skin I found there… shoulders and collar bone, breasts and the valley between them, bare arms and wrists and fingertips and the gentle slope of her stomach and the dip of her bellybutton.

She shivered beneath me, her fingers winding into my hair and running over my chest and shoulders, clutching, caressing, squeezing, her eyes closed and her lips parted. Abruptly she stood, pulling herself out from under my lips, and I felt a familiar flash of fear—until she extended her hand, her eyes warm. I took it and stood, letting her lead me back towards the bedrooms.

"Ayla?" She asked me, pressed close against my side, our movements slow and relaxed and unrushed.

"Jace's room." I replied, letting my fingertips slide over her arms and shoulders, having missed every perfect inch of her skin and unwilling to give up the opportunity to explore it in depth. She smiled and pulled me into her room, closing the door softly behind us.

We met in another kiss and moved fluidly towards her bed, the bed I'd made love to her in before she'd run away crying. …I hoped very much that this time would be different. It felt different. And when her legs hit the mattress and she let her knees bend, taking her down to lay on the bed beneath me, her eyes told me it was. I kissed her slowly as we scooted up until her head was cradled in the pillows. Her small hands slid across my stomach and up my chest, pulling me closer, her legs parting around me in what could only be described as the most perfectly natural position in the world. I moaned softly, biting her bottom lip, and the soft gasp that slipped from her sent chills through me.

I took my time, slowly removing each piece of clothing and worshipping the skin I found beneath it, wanting this reunion to be absolutely perfect—but she tugged me up when I attempted to bury my head between her long, glorious legs, and shook her head lightly, arching her hips to bring her hot, wet center up to me. I trembled at the contact and she smiled softly, shifting until the head of my penis was pressed snugly up against her and I was panting with the restraint it required not to push roughly into her. We kept our eyes locked together and I don't know that either of us was more responsible for initiating our union than the other—It seemed like we simply slid together without any effort on our parts, our bodies gravitating simply until they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

It was sensual and slow, deep and intense, and when we came together it was with as much heat and pleasure and relief as the last time… and yet there was so much more, because we were both making love to each other this time. There was no battle… no tears to follow the climax. We curled around each other with me still inside her and simply held each other, exchanging soft kisses, as our breathing slowed and our bodies relaxed and our eyelids drooped. Eventually we shifted onto our sides and I slid for her warm body, feeling the loss the moment we were separated… and sleepily she suggested that we move to sleep with Ayla.

With shaking knees and sappy, giddy smiles on tired faces, we moved as one, arms wrapped around each other's naked bodies, into the bedroom and onto the bed, on either side of her. We couldn't sleep as close with her between us, but that didn't seem to matter… We drifted to sleep together, finally knowing a contentment and a security that had eluded us in our relationship for as long as we'd been together.


	85. Chapter 85

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. I had... some strange things happen. Next update will most likely be Saturday-staff meeting in half an hour and then tomorrow night we're painting our classroom. Two summers ago, the teachers in the room painted it neon lime green. ...I can't tell you how excited I am to change it! :)

Anyway, thanks as always for the reviews! They mean the world!

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Chapter Eighty Five:

I slowly opened my eyes and found his blue ones staring back at me. I smiled softly, lifting sleep-heavy hands to his face and running them gently over the beard I still wasn't used to. His delicate lips quirked, just slightly, and I sighed deeply. Last night had been easy—no explanations necessary, really. Sure, there were some apologies thrown out in the passion of the moment, but it wasn't the same… It wasn't what would be needed this morning.

I swallowed, my eyes taking in the dimness of the light and Ayla's soft snores coming between us. It was still early. "…I went to see Jace's dad." I say, thinking that perhaps being direct is the best approach.

He swallowed too, and I wondered if mine had been just as loud in the stillness. "…and?"

I blinked several times, clearing the sleep from my eyes. "I… wanted to clear the air. I… didn't want to be with you and have Susan able to hold that knowledge over our heads, threatening to create a scandal at the funeral or to… change the way his father's thinks of me or… tell Ayla in a twisted, unfair kind of way. …I wanted there to be no more secrets."

"…So they know?"

He doesn't specify what he means—about him or about us—so I answer for both. "…They do. They know that I wanted to leave Jace… they know I'm in love with you… they know about you and her."

He nods, his eyes sliding out of focus as he considers my words. I let mine glance down to Ayla, kissing her curls. Despite the stress of what needs to be discussed, I feel like the moment is a cocoon of warmth. I'm tucked into bed with the love of my life and my child and though I miss the child's father, I've made peace with his death. When my eyes drift back to his, he's watching me, that familiar twist to his lips telling me that he isn't upset I've told his secrets to Jace's family.

I smile softly, reaching a tentative hand to brush over his exposed chest, feeling as though I should find it strange that we're both naked with Ayla in between us, but I don't. …I would never have done this with Jace and Ayla, but I wonder idly if this kind of thing is normal for families in which the parents are in love. He breaks the silence first, taking my hand and lifting it from his chest to his lips, kissing my fingertips and letting his words brush softly against them.

"…What changed, from yesterday…? With us, I mean."

He could be much harsher than this, if he chose to be. I had been all over the place in the last few days. I licked my lips. "Jace… After he hit you, when he found out about you and Susan… when I was explaining to him about how she had been the predator, we had a… moment."

His eyes narrow. "A moment?"

My lips curl into a smile at his lingering jealousy and with the realization that this is the first vulnerability he's shown me since Jace died. I hasten to explain. "I… told him that just because I was in love with you didn't mean that I didn't love him still, but that it just wasn't the same. I told him I wished we'd broken it off before the wedding… on good terms. So we could remember the relationship in good terms. He… was upset that I wouldn't remember being happy with him and… when I told him that that wasn't true, he… he told me he had written something in a book of poetry in his room that he'd been trying to give me for months. Before he could tell me what, you knocked on the door."

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head, running my thumb over his cheek bone and then down into the bristly whiskers on his cheeks. "Don't be… I didn't mean to leave you out there with her, especially after you'd been assaulted… I just wanted him to understand."

"…So you found it, then? Yesterday, when you were going through the books?"

I nodded softly, feeling a soft smile cross my face, thinking of the poem and the letter. "…I'll show you later. He… he'd been trying to let me go for months. …He was trying hard not to be like her."

He reached out to me this time, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and then letting the back of his knuckles trace down my cheeks. "…So then you didn't feel guilty?"

Always so perceptive. I nodded again. "It was… almost like he was giving his blessing. And… when I talked to his dad yesterday, he… gave his too. I didn't even know that I wanted it, until he asked me…"

"Good. He… seems like a genuinely nice man." I smiled, knowing that it was hard for him to know that he had been involved in hurting the man, even if he hadn't really been in control.

"I think he feels the same way about you. He… when I said you were nineteen… he looked… disgusted."

Gil's eyes slid away from me again and I could see how uncomfortable the topic made him. He didn't like feeling vulnerable or remembering having been a victim. The idea of the man pitying him had to be hard. I ran a hand gently through his curls, drawing his eyes back to mine. "I'm… better now. I'm not going to push you away anymore."

I watched as his eyes seemed to darken and he swallowed again. "I… I was an idiot, to jump to conclusions… before."

I know that he means the phone call, the night that Jace had been in my room… the last time we spoke, prior to everything with Ayla. This time I was the one who looked down, watching Ayla's small frame, curled up in sleep, her thumb in her mouth, her small frame was rising and falling with each breath. I took a moment to match my breathing to hers, to calm myself, because it was hard to think of that time period, when the PPD had been nearly at its worst.

"…I'm not still mad, but…" I looked up at him. "…I think it's an issue we need to address."

He frowned. "…Address?"

I felt my lips turn down a little at his confusion. "…Your avoidance tactics. You don't have to like confrontation, Gil, but you do have to communicate with me… When something happens, you have to address it."

He swallowed and, after a long moment, nodded. "I know. …I know that. I… Jace said some things to me, in the hospital, while you slept. …Knowing what you know about Susan and our…relationship… you can appreciate why I might be wary to be taken advantage of again. …Trust is a struggle, and I'd been replaying his words in my head for months, letting them play on my insecurities… When I heard what I thought, at the time, was undeniable evidence of betrayal, I… panicked."

"But when you heard my messages—"

"I didn't… I just deleted them. I knew it would hurt too much to hear you tell me that it was just a stupid mistake and you were so sorry. …I knew that I wouldn't deny you, if I heard the slightest pain in your voice, and…and I've had enough of being manipulated."

I frowned again and he sighed. "But, honey… there has to be some middle ground, for us to work. …You might be afraid of being hurt… but it'll hurt just as much if we lose each other because we weren't willing to hear each other out…"

He averted his eyes and nodded, and though he didn't say the words, I knew he would be making an effort in the future—the remorse in his eyes communicated as much. When his voice comes again, it's tight with emotion. "I… You were… When did you see a doctor about… you know?"

I raised an eyebrow. "My post-partum depression? …Shortly after that. It… got bad."

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, with that… I made you go through it alone." His voice quavers with emotion and his tone is entirely self-deprecating.

I cluck my tongue and shake my head. "I didn't tell you what I was going through. It was hard for both of us, being so far apart. …I want us to move forward, not dwell on the past."

He frowned, clearly not feeling I was put enough weight on his crimes, and I leaned closer to him, pressing my lips very softly against his. He tilted his face into the kiss, not deepening it but just softly reciprocating.

Nothing hugely important took place the rest of the day—the realtor who had been supposed to come the previous day came over, apologizing and explaining that her youngest daughter had gone into labor and she'd been so excited she'd simply gotten caught up in that. I smiled at the thought that there was new life coming into the world… I liked the idea that such goodness could still exist. That I could be aware of it and appreciate it…We packed up Jace's room, we played with Ayla, and when she asked for Jace, I explained that he was gone, this time.

I talked to Jace's father about the funeral plans and we booked our tickets and hotel rooms—we were stopping in Vegas for a night so Gil could get a decent change of clothes and his suit. It would be the first time I'd seen his home and I was rather excited for it… We packed our bags, we did some laundry, and when Gil was redressed in clean clothing, we even went out to eat when we decided we were too tired from our day of packing to cook. It was a quiet, simple day, spend in comfortable companionship and it warmed my heart to imagine a life this way.

Once Jace's funeral was over, we'd come back to Boston to finish packing up the house and take care of all our loose ends… and then Ayla and I would be moving to Las Vegas, into Gil's townhouse. He hadn't mentioned marriage, but I still had his grandmother's wedding ring. I had taken it off when I knew he was coming to Boston—I was embarrassed for him to see that I hadn't removed it when I had believed he must have moved on—but it was safe in my jewelry box and if he still wanted me to have it… there were any number of drive-through chapels in Vegas.

Whatever it would take to finally be together the way we had wanted and deserved to be for so very, very long.


	86. Chapter 86

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, I think I may have been unclear in the last chapter. It was only meant to be one day in time, and when Sara talks about going to Vegas, she's saying 'when we go, this is the plan...' So, as of the last chapter, they haven't gone yet. Sorry I didn't word it as clearly as I ought to've. :)

Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy!

Edit: So, I meant to put this in my A/N the first time. I was dumb and was thinking Ecklie was in charge when I had him calling, so for the sake of consistency, I'm just pretending he was in charge back then. Sorry for the confusion.

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Chapter Eighty Six:

At this point, my phone had died and I had no way of knowing how many calls I'd missed. I could have called the lab or Catherine from Sara's phone… now that Sara and I had resolved our problems, there was no reason to continue avoiding whatever had been taking place at home in my absence. I even tried Catherine once, and got a busy signal. …The prospect of calling Ecklie was enough to convince me that it could wait until I returned to Vegas—we were flying out the next day.

The day that had begun happily in bed with my girls ended precisely the same way and before we knew it, the alarm was going off at four in the morning—we had a flight at seven. I got up and showered first, leaving Sara in bed with Ayla, and then woke her when I got out. I dressed Ayla and fed her some cereal while Sara showered and packed up the rest of our toiletries… within the hour, the car was packed and we were headed to the airport.

It was Ayla's first airplane ride and Sara's carryon was entirely devoted to Ayla—toys, books, games, snacks—but she was asleep before we had finished taxiing. I lamented that we hadn't gotten a third seat so that Sara didn't have to hold her the whole time, and even offered several times to take her, but Sara just leaned back in her seat, cradling Ayla across her chest, and shook her head. …I didn't know for sure, but I had my suspicions that the kidnapping had a much larger effect on Sara's psyche than it had on Ayla's—she never wanted the child too far away.

We had a layover in Minneapolis and though the airport provided quick transportation to the Mall of America and Legoland, Sara said that it was just silly to take her there… she was too young for the rides at Camp Snoopy and wouldn't even know what she was seeing. …I was disappointed, having had no opportunities to take Ayla on exciting little adventures, but I made myself feel better by buying her a Twins onesie in a store in the airport—when I worked in Hennepin County, I had been a rather avid fan. Sara, for her part, clucked her tongue and told me that I was spoiling her… but her eyes told me that she understood my desire to do so and she waited patiently for me.

While Sara looked for a magazine, I took the girl over to the windows to see the airplanes, delighting in her wide eyes and pointing finger and the cheesy grin when I caught her attention in order to clearly enunciate 'air-plane,' she fixed her eyes on my face again and said, "Gla!" while pointing a finger so close that I had to back my head away to prevent her slobbery little fingers leaving smears across my glasses.

"Sara!" I called, and she glanced over at us, replaced the magazine she'd been considering, and moved to my side.

"Hmm?"

"What's she saying…? Does she know my name?"

Sara looked at her, smirked, and whispered conspiratorially, "Psst. Gil. She's not saying anything…"

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "Ayla… airplane." She glanced over her shoulder and then back at me, uncertain. Sara giggled and I frowned again. "No, really. She was—"

"Gla!" This time her fingers clasped around my glasses, pulling them half off my face before I could stop her. I caught them, but Sara was giggling again. I didn't care.

"That! Is she saying 'Gil'?"

Her giggles stopped and her smile faded. "No…honey, she's saying 'glasses'. We have a book with different clothing and accessories, but the only one she knows yet is glasses. …She likes to point to you in the pictures in my room and say it."

"Oh." I said, finding myself immensely disappointed. She frowned too, slipping an arm around me.

"…She'll learn it eventually, honey."

I frowned. "Yeah… I know." And though a moment ago I would have been ecstatic for her to have known my name, now the thought of teaching her to call me 'Gil' just didn't seem to sit right either. …Was it too soon to want her to call me 'Daddy'? Yeah, it was definitely too soon. I sighed softly, and Sara gave me a understanding smile and kissed my cheek.

"Give it some time, and then we'll teach her 'daddy,' okay?"

I looked at her in surprise and she smiled. "It was what Jace wanted and it's… it's what you both need. I just… don't want to confuse her, having her call someone else that so… soon."

I nodded, feeling emotional but trying to push it back. It was my own fault that she didn't know me. I hugged Ayla tight to me as we heard our flight being called to start boarding. We moved as a single unit onto the plane, and Ayla once again fell asleep before we'd even taken off, this time against my chest. It must be the motion… Sara said car rides usually put her to sleep too. I sighed happily, running my hands up her back, thinking that now I knew why Sara hadn't wanted to give her up. …This was amazing.

When we landed in Vegas, I let Sara take Ayla who was a little fussy from having been woken up and slung one of the carry-on bags over the handle of Sara's rolling suitcase and kept the other on my shoulder, with a car seat in hand, leading them out to my car and feeling every bit the patriarch of our little threesome. Sara weakly protested that she could carry something other than Ayla, but I liked doing it all. …I mean, I wasn't about to pound my chest or drag her anywhere by her hair, but I was allowed a little masculine pride, wasn't I?

Sara hooked up the car seat while I loaded everything into the trunk, and within minutes we had paid for my parking and were headed to my townhouse for the night. Sara glanced at me, a bemused expression on her face. "…I didn't think there would be slot machines in the airport."

I smirked, shaking my head. "Honey… there are slot machines everywhere. …Everywhere, really. Gas stations, restaurants, grocery stores…"

She gave me an uncertain smile. "That'll be an adjustment…"

I squeezed her hand across the console, trying to be reassuring. "If you don't want to stay here…" I offered, even though I didn't particularly want to leave the lab. For her, of course, I would but…

"No… that doesn't make any sense. Your already have a townhouse that has room for all of us and you have a job you love… Why would we move?"

I smiled at the 'we' and nodded, taking an exit and then another immediate turn, onto my street. We passed a black Denali whose driver looked suspiciously like Catherine and when it made a dramatic, tire-squealing U-turn to follow behind us, my suspicions were concerned. I parked and removed the keys, holding up the house key for Sara. "Catherine is behind us… I haven't answered a lot of her calls, so she's not going to be happy. Take Ayla inside and I'll be in once I know what's been going on."

"You haven't been answering her calls?" She asked, but when Catherine pulled into the driveway behind us rather aggressively, the brakes squealing at the force with which she hit them, she took the proffered key and got out, opening the back door and unhooking Ayla. Resting her on a hip and shutting the door behind her, she came face to face with Catherine who walked up the driveway with a swagger. The last time the women had spoke, Catherine had been tearing Sara apart on the phone for her perceived infidelity. Sara clutched Ayla closer and with a glance at the blonde woman's indignant and disbelieving expression, turned to head inside rather than have another conversation like their last one in front of Ayla.

"It wasn't enough for you to cheat on him?" Catherine called, baiting her. I watched Sara's frame stiffen as she pause, but she kept walking. I got out of the car, stepping in front of Catherine who looked like she was about to follow Sara and start a fist fight.

"Catherine. Stop." I heard the keys in the door and then it swinging closed.

"And you!" Catherine spat, apparently just fully processing my presence there. "Where the hell have you been? Do you know that I was just here trying to peer in your windows to make sure you hadn't come back without telling anyone and died in there?"

I swallowed. "I'm sorry, Cath. It's been… hectic."

"Hectic! You don't know hectic… Gil, Holly Gribbs—"

"I know, I know. I was supposed to train the new girl. I'll owe you one, okay?"

Her mouth was a thin line and she huffed softly, her hands moving to her hips. "No. …Gil, she was killed at a scene."

"What?" I asked, absolutely shocked. "On her first night? …How did this happen?"

"You would know this if you answered your phone." She snapped, and then her expression softened again, seeing the bewilderment on mine. "Brass sent her to a scene with Warrick, and Warrick left here there, with an officer but otherwise alone… The perp. came back and… he shot her."

I felt dizzy with the information. "He… Oh my god. What… what's happened? Did you guys catch the guy?"

"Yeah, we caught him... pretty easily, actually. And... Brass was moved to homicide… Ecklie's been tearing the lab—and everyone in it—apart, trying to find you. At first he was going to tell you to get home to train Holly… and then he was going to tell you to come back to run the unit…"

I sensed that this wasn't the end, so I arched an eyebrow and shoved my hands in my pockets. "And now?"

She grimaced. "Now he's convinced that Holly wouldn't have died if you'd been there to work with her. …He's been talking about firing you."

I rolled my eyes. I brought so much grant money to the lab that they would be better off paying me to do nothing than they would be firing me and losing all of it. "I'm sure he's talking… what about Warrick?"

She clucked her tongue. "I think their plan was to have you fire him, once you came back… he's on suspension. Now, though, I think Ecklie is blaming you and letting Warrick off the hook. …She should have been with you, and if you had been here, it wouldn't have happened."

I sighed. "That's a blessing in disguise I guess. …When's her funeral?"

Catherine frowned. "Earlier today."

"I'm sorry I missed it," I said sadly, not feeling responsible but definitely feeling saddened. Being a CSI wasn't supposed to be a high-risk job and she'd been fresh from the academy.

Catherine sighed, leaning back against the front end of my car with her arms crossed over her chest. "So… you found Ayla."

I nodded, reservedly. "…We did."

"And you're, what? On the lamb from Jace? You know, coming to where he knows you live, with your address in the phone book… not so sneaky."

"No, we're not hiding. Jace—"

"So he finally stopped blackmailing her? Or did she cheat on him with you again and the third time was the charm?"

"Catherine, no. Jace—"

"But, I mean… I don't know why you would take her back either. …What is it about her? I don't get i—"

"Catherine." I said, more sternly. "…Jace is dead."

"…Oh." Her face went slack and her arms fell away from her chest to swing lightly at her sides.

I pursed my lips, looking at my feet, and sighed. "Cath, it was… The whole thing was so strange. …She still had pictures of me up in her room. They were in separate rooms. And though she was mad at me, she wasn't… with him, either. She hadn't slept with him, that night. She…" I sighed, feeling self-hatred well up strong in me again. "She's on anti-depressants. Post partum depression. …She was going through that when I…"

I break off, letting my eyes drift and then finally rise to her face. She looks shocked that I've just talked about something personal with her—even when she was privy to Sara and I'd relationship on the cruise, I hadn't sat and talked with her about it. I cleared my throat, looking deliberately away again. "Anyway… Jace figured out who had her before we did. He took the money and went alone… and died shielding Ayla. It, uh… it was really awful."

She still doesn't know what to say, but she takes a step forward and wraps her arms around me. Surprisingly, it's what I needed… to be able to lean on someone. Because I've been working on being strong for Sara, who is suffering far more than I am… and while I've done some leaning, I've obviously been holding back for her sake. Despite having only rarely hugged Catherine in my life, I allow myself the embrace and the moment in which I'm allowed to be weak.

Finally, I pulled back, sighing. "Listen… I'll come in sometime tonight, deal with Ecklie. I'm sorry you had to take the heat trying to cover for me. I'd… better get in with the girls."

She smiled softly at my phrasing. "Family life suits you, Gil. …See you tonight." She sauntered back to the Denali she was driving, and I moved to the trunk, pulling out the luggage. And then, with a jolt of excitement, I headed towards the front door—I had missed seeing Sara's initial reaction, which was disappointing, but I still wanted to see what she thought of my home… the home that was going to be hers.


	87. Chapter 87

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, if you read the last chapter before I had a chance to edit it, I just want to reinterate that I was dumb and used Ecklie as the person calling Grissom before I realized that he wasn't in charge of Grissom this early in CSI. Sooo, I'm sticking with it for consistency's sake, but if you like the idea of it tying back into canon, by all means replace the name 'Ecklie' in your head with Mobley or Cavallo or whoever was really in charge in the first season, because at times it's dramatically unclear. :)

Oh, and Grissom drove himself to the airport, not Catherine, which is how his car is there. I checked before I wrote it, because even I wasn't sure! :) I appreciate the review though... if I do make mistakes like that, please tell me!

Anyway, thanks and enjoy! 3 I'm going to guess (though I can't be sure) that this is the last update today. I have laundry to finish before the new week and True Blood is on tonight! Yay! :)

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Chapter Eighty Seven:

I left Gil to sort out Catherine, telling myself that despite my anger at the woman, I was glad that she cared about Gil enough to be angry at my perceived indiscretions. I closed the door behind us, blocking out the sound of their voices, taking my first look around Gil's home. It was dark. Very dark.

I smirked, extending a hand to turn on lights, thinking that he had told me all his windows were covered in blinds that entirely blocked out light so he could sleep during the day. The light immediately above me turned on and Ayla looked up at it. I slipped out of my shoes and flipped another light switch, watching the light in the room beyond come to life.

I hitched her up on my hip and stepped from tile to carpet, noting as I moved around the corner that if the blinds were open, the place would have been light and airy. …It was very much a bachelor's pad. There was furniture, but no homey touches—no throws slung over a chair or pillows on the couch. There was a messy desk that was a prominent feature in the room, though the electronics on the walls were more so—a large television, an even larger sound system. They were each framed by bookcases, but not heavy wooden ones, as I would have imagined—they were sleek and modern, black and silver and open on all sides. Stark and utilitarian.

I frowned a little, noting that the only thing that didn't seem to be… stark and utilitarian… were the many, many framed butterflies he had lining every open space of wall. I moved through the living room, smiling softly despite myself—it might not be my choice for the way to decorate a home, but it was distinctly like him and the lack of a feminine touch reassured me that he hadn't been with anyone else in the time we'd been apart. I moved into his kitchen, finding that very similar—somehow simultaneously lived-in and sparse. I glanced back at the door before deciding to snoop.

I pulled open his fridge and immediately recoiled—the top shelf contained a carton of milk, two bottles of water, six Petri dishes containing unknown substances and stacked haphazardly on top of Tupperware containers that held… not food. Tucked in the back, with the label partially obscured, was a brown bottle of what I was fairly certain was chloric acid. The second shelf had lunch meat and cheese and a Ziploc bag of meat that might not be entirely spoiled yet but which was certainly not fresh. I had to mentally remind myself that he'd been in Boston, with me, for four days. He hadn't had time to plan for the trip and decide to not unfreeze hamburger because he wouldn't be around to eat it.

I shook my head, glancing at the bottom shelf which held the rest of the case of bottled water, the bottles still wrapped up together in plastic, and several more questionable Tupperware containers. On the door there was a carton of eggs, butter, condiments that were sticky—chocolate syrup, ketchup, jelly… all of their exteriors covered with what ought to have been on the inside. Finally, I pulled open the two drawers at the bottom, finding no fruits or vegetables, but several more Petri dishes and one jar which I was quite sure contained actual insects, though I could not have told you if they were alive or not.

With a shudder, I closed the door and moved back into the living room, thinking it seemed a little bit safer. I mean, really, I had loved seeing the insects in the rainforest… and Gil's giddiness had seemed cute at the time. …But the idea of eating anything from that fridge, even if I scrubbed it out and made him keep his creepy things elsewhere… it made me feel sick, quite frankly. In the living room, I noticed Ayla staring at one of the frames on the wall which housed three rather large, rather bright butterfly specimens. I moved over to it, watching her eyes get wide as she reached out a finger and pointed at the brilliantly red butterfly that had caught her eyes. I peered down at Gil's neat handwriting beneath the beautiful creature: "Cymothoe sangaris sangaris, Nigeria."

I smiled softly, glancing down at the others—one a multi-colored masterpiece in iridescent pastels, the other striking black and teal, both from parts of Africa as well. "But-ter-fly." I enunciated for Ayla, who attempted to repeat me, managing to only make the 'lie' sound at the end intelligible. I sighed, glancing at the door again—I had not imagined exploring his home alone. I had imagined him walking me through, showing it to me with gentle smiles and shy eyes and sheepish shrugs of his shoulders. ...I also hadn't imagined bugs in the kitchen, to be fair.

With a final glance at the door, I headed down the hallway, peering into rooms as I came across them. The first was a half bath which, although it looked seldom used, was in nice condition. The walls were white, the pedestal sink was white, the toilet and trash can beside it were white. The towel on the silver ring beside the sink was white. I frowned, flicking the light off and moving forward. The next door was a very small bedroom that was currently housing a very large ant farm. I stepped inside, wanting to get a feel for Ayla's room and thinking that ants were not so bad if they were contained. I turned on the light and passed a row of shelves, thinking I would check the size of the closet, but instead was stopped in my tracks by a loud _Hiss!_

I turned to the shelves in surprise, finding myself face to face with six of the largest cockroaches I had ever seen, hissing at me! …Now, I'm not usually a squeamish girl. The proximity of food and bugs bothered me, yes, but if I had been warned of the cockroaches I might have been curious, even. But to have them surprise you like that… I let out a squeal and hurtled myself out of the room, shutting the door without even turning off the light, panting a little.

Ayla was laughing, thinking that mommy running and spinning and shrieking was a game… but I knew that my hands were shaking and that I needed to get them under control—while Gil might find my reaction to his bugs humorous, I was pretty sure that seeing how startled I was would upset him… and my thoughts concerning his fridge would most certainly hurt his feelings. …I still couldn't believe I'd kissed someone who had eaten anything out of that.

I was mad at myself that I found myself actually tiptoeing towards his bedroom, already trying to come up with some explanation that he would believe for not wanting to spend the night in his home before our flight out early the next morning. …If I remembered correctly, the flight was at some crazy hour like 4 a.m. I could say that it didn't even make sense to sleep. …Have Ayla sleep in her car seat and Gil take me on a driving tour of Vegas. I mean, really, how much sleep would we really be getting anyway?

I winced as I turned the handle and pushed, letting the final door slowly slip open… and was pleasantly surprised. The walls were a warm tan with almost a honey tone to them, with a stripe of dark blue three quarters of the way up the wall. His bed was a large, four-poster made of dark wood with a bedspread that perfectly matched the stripe. The floor was hardwood, and there was a plush white area rug under the bed… all the furniture matched the bed, the sheets were white with blue pinstripes, and though the bed was unmade, all the bedding looked like it had been recently cleaned.

I slipped in and closed the door, flicking on the light and moving immediately to the closet, anticipating the shelves to be filled with terrariums and tarantulas and other freakishly large monsters… but instead, it held nicely hung work clothes, a court suit or two, and neatly folded jeans, sweats, t-shirts, and sweatshirts on the shelves. Frowning in confusion, I glanced around, moving to his dressed and opening the drawers I found there… underwear, socks, pajamas, undershirts… some shorts and a pair of over-bright swimming trunks. I glanced in one nightstand and then the other—one was empty, clearly only there as part of the set, the other had a book on top of it, and every picture of Ayla and every letter I had sent before he started ignoring me, carefully tucked inside.

I swallowed a little emotionally, glancing around and spying another door. The master bathroom. I moved to it, thinking that this was surely it—some bizarre water bugs swimming in his bathtub and crawling across the mirror… Instead, I found a room painted blue, with the brownish color from the bedroom coloring a stripe at exactly the same height as the one in the bedroom. The vanity area was clean, and a quick search of his drawers revealed nothing more interesting than a dusty box of condoms in the back of a drawer, under some cleaning supplies, and with an expiration date of two years previous. The towels in here were white with blue stripes, and there were even fuzzy rugs in front of the tub and shower combined, the toilet, and the vanity.

…Having explored the entire area and found it not nearly as frightening as I'd expected, I let out an audible sigh of relief and moved back into the bedroom, flopping onto the mattress with Ayla and finding it surprisingly soft and comfortable. Ayla giggled, and I did too. …We might need to buy a new fridge and build him a bug shed or something, but this wasn't so bad at all.

"Hey, there you are." I glanced up at him in the doorway, grinning.

"Hi…"

He offered me a soft smile and moved over to me, bending to peck my lips. "You so anxious to get into my bed that you couldn't even wait for me?"

I smirked at his tease, "You're bad, Gil Grissom. …There is a little girl in this bed."

"And her Mommy is a big girl in this bed. She doesn't know what I'm saying."

I giggled and pulled him down to kiss me again. "Catherine calmed down now?"

He frowned, giving me one more kiss before flopping down on the bed on the other side of Ayla. "Yeah… I guess I really should have answered my phone, but there was so much going on in Boston…"

"What happened?"

"We had a girl—daughter of a lieutenant over in traffic—straight out of the Academy starting that first night I was there. The night that…" He pauses, not finishing his clarification—the night we found Ayla, the night that Jace was killed, the night his mother tried to kill herself. "I was supposed to work with her, show her the ropes, but this came up… apparently she was shot at a scene."

"Oh my god!" I gasped, horrified—CSIs weren't supposed to be in danger like that. "Wasn't there an officer at the scene?"

"He left, for some reason… Anyway, I, uh… I've missed about a hundred calls from my assistant lab director since it happened, so I really need to stop in at the lab tonight and clear some things up… Is that okay?"

"Of course, honey. …Do you need to stay in town for her funeral?"

He shook his head slowly. "No… it was this morning. I'll just go in before he leaves at five and explain… I mean, it was an emergency and Catherine knew about it… it wasn't like I left without telling anyone. He doesn't like me though, so I'm sure he's blown it up into a much bigger deal that I wasn't there."

"…I'm sorry, Gil."

He frowned, tilting his head. "Sorry… that you called me to help? …That I came and quite possibly saved Ayla's life? …That we've now had a chance to clear some things up and we're going to be together now?"

I gaped, uncertain, and then shook my head. "…I guess I'm not sorry."

He smiled softly and pecked my lips again. "Good. Me either. …Now, do you want to see my ant farm?"


	88. Chapter 88

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, once again, if you're a stickler for canon, feel free to replace Ecklie's name with any generic assistant lab director for season one. Although, I have to say that in writing this, I found it deeply satisfying to imagine it as Ecklie. :)

As always, thank you so much for the reviews. They brighten my day, each and every day. I can't tell you how much they mean! Thank you!

Hammer, you can come out of the corner now. :) Hehe.

Also, fair warning, we're winding down a bit. I mean, we're not a chapter or two from the end or anything, but we're getting closer. Just so you guys know.

Enjoy!

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Chapter Eighty Eight:

I didn't have much food in the fridge and when I suggested we could just make lunch meat sandwiches and some soup for lunch, Sara didn't seem to like that idea very much—she hadn't been eating much since Ayla had been kidnapped and I figured that she wanted good food now that her appetite was returning. We decided to take Ayla to see the aquarium at Mandalay Bay and grab lunch in one of the restaurants there.

…I can't even begin to describe how it felt, watching Ayla watch the giant sharks and the tiny little fish with wide eyes, an open mouth, and utter, disbelieving amazement. I vowed to myself that I would never stop finding things to show her that would give her that look of awe and wonder of the world around her.

We spent so long with the fish that by the time we'd finished eating, I had to hurry over to the lab or risk missing Ecklie before he left for the day, unless of course Catherine had given him some indication that I would be coming in tonight. …I was fairly certain she wouldn't have. So instead of dropping Ayla and Sara at home, I drove them right over to the Crime Lab and settled them into the break room while I set off to find Ecklie.

He was in his office, packing up his briefcase, getting ready to leave for the day. I was surprised he hadn't looked up yet—the sound of hushed murmurings had followed me from the moment I entered the lab. I took a deep breath, bracing myself, before knocking on the door frame. He looked up in surprise and I watched his face flicker from inquiring to anger in a half second flat. I couldn't help the small smile that twisted my lips—the man was just so humorous sometimes. "Conrad."

He looked back down to what he was doing, but the scowl remained firmly in place. "Gil… Nice of you to show up."

"I had a family emergency come up… Catherine was covering my cases for me."

"You didn't tell anyone, including Catherine, where you were going and you refused to answer your phone."

This wasn't true—Catherine had known exactly where I was. She must have feigned ignorance to protect my privacy. I reminded myself to thank her for it later, and sighed. "I flew to Boston an hour after I received the phone call at the end of shift… I didn't even have time to stop at home. Why on earth would I have my phone charger with me?"

He rolled his eyes, snapping his briefcase closed with too much force and then moving it to rest on the floor beside his chair. He sat down, looking at me in exasperation. "…Let's just be straight with each other, Gil. I know that your phone didn't die for the first forty or fifty of my calls, because it rang before it sent me to voicemail, and I have it on very good authority that they have phones in Boston. You were avoiding talking to me."

"I was dealing with a kidnapping case," I said, moderately impressed—the phones comment was the closest I'd ever heard Conrad come to having a sense of humor.

He raised an eyebrow. "You said it was a family emergency."

"It was."

"…Sit down." He directed, gesturing to the chair. The look on his face told me that he thought he was being quite generous, giving me a chance to sit and explain myself. I closed the door behind me, but stood behind the chair he'd offered, my hands clasping the back of it.

"My… fiancé's daughter was kidnapped. She wanted me to go help with the investigation… if I hadn't gone, her daughter probably wouldn't have been found in time."

He pursed his lips, his hands clutching a pen between them in agitation. "But… she was found? She's safe now?"

I nodded, wondering why he hadn't questioned the existence of a fiancé, but apparently that was the least of his worries. He sighed heavily, now tapping the pen against his desk with one hand. "Well… I wish you would have called and explained, but I understand the extreme nature of the circumstances. You're back now, let's just put it behind us… Now, I don't know if you've heard about Brass but—"

"Wait." I said, catching up with him a moment later, still in shock that it had ended that easily and he wasn't making a power play. "I… I'm not actually back, yet."

The pen stopped tapping. "…Excuse me?"

"Ayla—the daughter—her father… was killed trying to save her. We got there in time to rescue her, but he… His funeral is tomorrow, in San Francisco. We're flying out early tomorrow morning for it."

He practically threw the pen down. "You… you disappear for almost a week, don't answer your phone, and now you tell me that you're leaving again? No notice, minimal explanation… and I'm just supposed to go with that? The unit doesn't have a supervisor right now!"

I raised an eyebrow. "…Well, with all due respect, Conrad, that's not really my responsibility. I have a right to take bereavement days."

"For your fiancé's ex? _Really_?"

I swallowed. "For the man who died to save my little girl."

"Oh hell, Gil." He stood up, running a hand over his shiny bald head. "…You know what? You're right. I haven't made you a supervisor yet, so it isn't your responsibility to deal with the lack of leadership on grave. But it is your responsibility to inform your superiors when you need to take time off for family emergencies, which you failed to do. It is your responsibility to answer your phone and explain if you do take off without informing them. And, if you leave for half a week without notice, and without answering your phone, and without any common courtesy or even apology that you put us through that—that a girl died because of your negligence—then it is your damned responsibility to accept the consequences of your actions and realize you can't take any more time off right now without some advance notice!"

I was gripping the back of the chair so hard that my knuckles were white. "…Holly didn't die because of my negligence. Why did the officer who was supposed to be guarding her leave the scene?"

His eyes shot to his desk and he scoffed. "PD is looking into it. That still doesn't change the fact—"

"That I should have called you. Right. …Because when I was working on trying to find my little girl or on consoling her over the loss of her father or helping my fiancé deal with the constant fear that she would wake up and Ayla would be missing again, I also should have been worried about the lab falling apart without me, when I'm not even the graveyard supervisor."

"Be snide all you like, Gil. The fact of that matter is that we can't afford to give you any more unexpected time off with the night shift so short."

I shook my head. "I'm not trying to be snide, Conrad, but I'm going to this funeral."

There was a long moment in which he watched me, and then he buttoned his jacket and picked up his briefcase. "Fine. As long as you're back in time for shift tomorrow night, it's none of my business what you do in your free time."

He made to walk out but I stepped in front of him. "No, Conrad. Lab policy is a week for immediate family—you can give me a few days."

"For a man whose only relation to you is that you've fucked the same woman? I don't think so."

My hands were shaking with the effort it required not to hit the man for his disrespectful words. I balled them into fists, willing myself to exert some control. "And if I'm not back in time for shift tomorrow night?"

"…Then I imagine you'll be facing some serious disciplinary action. Suspension, maybe even firing… I will not be disrespected or manipulated, even by the great Gil Grissom…"

I rolled my eyes. "Don't make bluffs if you can't pull them off—we both know that you wouldn't fire me. You could pay me to do nothing eighty hours a week and with the grant money I bring in, the lab would still come out ahead. …I know we've never gotten along, but my request is not unreasonable—if we could just take a moment an—"

"Grissom!" He positively roared. I blinked in surprise and even took a step back I was so startled, much to my chagrin. I knew he must be angry—he didn't even seem to register any satisfaction at me backing away from him. "No matter what you bring to this lab, you are not in charge. Publishing a few respected papers doesn't mean you get to throw your weight around. You will be here tomorrow night, or you won't have a job. Do I make myself clear?"

I was absolutely surprised, and for a moment I simply stared at him in shock while he smiled that smug smile at me… and then my brain caught up with the events that had taken place and the options I was being given. I surprised even myself when I self-satisfied kind of smile slid across my face. He frowned, uncertainly, and I felt it spread into a grin. "…But at this moment, I'm not fired?"

His frown deepened and he tilted his head. "Well… No, I…" he trailed off, uncertain, and the grin became a beam.

"In that case… consider this my resignation, Conrad. Now, as per the contract I signed when I was recruited to this lab, any remaining vacation time I should possess at the time of my resignation shall be paid in full within two weeks of said resignation. …Since I haven't been fired, I'm entitled to… I think it's roughly twelve weeks pay, isn't it? That's a ballpark… Human Resources would know for certain."

"Now wait a second, Gil."

"I believe you have my home address… I'll expect the check with two weeks, or I will be calling my lawyer. Oh, and I believe you're also required to inform the organizations who've given us grants of any major changes in employment? …Tell you what—I'm feeling generous. Don't worry about telling them now—just, when you apply for the grant again, do be sure to let them know. You wouldn't want to be guilty of falsely representing yourselves or using my name to financial gain without my permission. …You know, I wonder what the lab director or the sheriff will say when they find out…"

With a smile that was nothing short of vindictive, I turned on my heel, heading out, and then the little weasel was scrambling after me. "Gil! Wait! …Listen, it… it's been an awful week. Holly and all of that… I was overreacting. Really, it could happen to anyone… I… take all the bereavement time you need. When's the wedding? You know the lab has great benefits for families… dental and vision included!"

I stopped, and he ran into me, bouncing off my back with an "Oof!"

I turned back to him. "You know, the thing is that I just really don't need this job… I'm a saver, you know? I've got enough money put away to support myself for over a year without any of that vacation money… which makes me think that I would be much better served by collecting, taking my fiancé on a dream honeymoon vacation, and leaving you to suffer the consequences of your own inflated ego… Yes, I think that sounds far more satisfying. …Have a good night, Conrad."

I gave him a cheery smile and moved alone towards the break room, scooping Ayla up in my arms and delighting that she smiled and squealed, obviously wanting my attention. I put the girl up on my shoulders, wrapping one arm behind me to hold her tightly and let the other arm snake around Sara's waist. "You ready, honey? What do you think of seeing some of the strip tonight?"

I crouched low to get Ayla and I through the doorway at her nod, and we moved through the lab and out into the early Vegas twilight. I glanced around, the lights of the strip clearly visible in the distance, despite the distance between them and the lab, for the first time really appreciating the beauty of all that light. I mean, it might be gaudy, but if you didn't think about then as dens of iniquity... they were really quite nice. I smiled over at Sara, feeling strangely light and free. I mean, sure, I was going to miss my team, but I also had faith that I would keep in touch with them… And in the time I'd spent away from Sara, just dreaming of the places we would go and the things we would do if we could be together the way we wanted to be, I had come up with no shortage of plans… one in particular prominent among them.

I wouldn't bring it up tonight, the night before Jace's funeral. …It wasn't the right time. But in a few days… maybe once we were back in Boston… I had an intimate proposal for my Sara.


	89. Chapter 89

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, some people have been requesting smut and fluff. Fluff is in this chapter, and in the next one... :) Let's just say we're not to the angst of the funeral yet. :P

Enjoy!

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Chapter Eighty Nine:

Gil seemed… different. I mean, not in a bad way. But definitely in a confusing way. He had a bounce in his step when we left the lab and though he was a man who rarely smiled for no reason, he had a silly grin that kept unexpectedly twisting his mouth at the strangest moments. Finally, after taking Ayla to see the Bellagio fountains (which I think I might have enjoyed more than she did) and the lions at the MGM, she was curled up asleep on my shoulder while we strolled through the still light evening. I basked in the warmth, holding Gil's hand and keeping my baby close to me, and glanced at him out of the side of my eyes.

He smirked to himself again, like remembering some joke or funny situation…

"You're different. …Did something happen at the lab?"

"Hmm?" He asked me, turning his head in surprise, and I chuckled.

"I asked if something unexpected happened at the lab. …You've been in a strange mood since then."

"…Strange how?"

I laughed out loud this time. "Happy. Stop avoiding the question."

He grinned and tugged me in the direction of the bridge where you could overlook the gondolas of the Venetian. "Well, you have to understand some of the back history… I've told you about Ecklie, haven't I?"

I frowned. "A little. …You two don't think much of each other, do you?"

He snorted his amusement and I couldn't help but smile—he was rarely this light hearted. There had been times, on the cruise ship, when this light and playful Gil came out… although bug-hunting had been the only time he seemed present for an extended period of time. "No, we don't. We started at the lab roughly around the same time, on different shifts—to him, this is a career… each case a stepping stone. And, I mean, every criminalist thinks about 'career cases' and all of that… but they spend the majority of their time focused on the victims. This man… doesn't care about them, or the science… or catching the right person. …He cares about results and appearances and politics."

"The anti-Grissom." I said, my lips twitching at the look he gave me out of the side of his eyes. I giggled when the stern look intensified and his composure slipped, a smile breaking through.

"Right. Okay, the 'anti-Grissom'. Anyway, he played politics so he was promoted, and I didn't… so I wasn't. And… today, he tried to give me an ultimatum." We stopped against the railing of the bridge and I felt an eyebrow raise as I leaned forward to look down into the water.

"…and that was?"

"…That if I wasn't back in time for shift tomorrow, I'd be fired."

I turned to look at him in alarm, my pulse quickening. "Our flights don't come back to Vegas until the day after tomorrow, Gil! …We should call the airline, see if we can change th—"

His hand fell gently on the shoulder that wasn't acting as a pillow to Ayla. "Honey… we're not coming back early. Besides his request being entirely unreasonable, it still wouldn't help with the fact that we have flights back to Boston so we can pack up your house, get it sold, and tie up any loose ends…"

I sighed softly, nodding. He was right. Of course he was right. I nodded. "Okay… so what happened?"

His grin returned full force. "I told him where he could shove his ultimatums…"

My eyes were wide. "You didn't!"

He chuckled indulgently. "Not in those words… but I did quit."

"What? …Gil, money's already tight and now that we have the moving expenses and everything going on… we can't afford for both of us to be out of work right now!"

I almost felt dizzy with the panic that was overtaking me—I had grown up without very much, and from the time I was allowed to get a part time job I had had one, because I had learned early on that money gave you security. Even when I was convincing Jace to give up most of what he made to charity, it was only after determining that we would have enough to live on and enough to put aside for Ayla's college… I was fairly sure he'd drained that account now though, to get some of the ransom money. The idea of both Gil and I being unemployed, with a child, in a new city that I wasn't entirely sure I would like living in anyway…

Gil's firm hands on my cheeks forced me to focus my gaze on him. I felt sick. "Honey… calm down. I promise that I wouldn't have done this if it would put us in any kind of tough situation—I care more about you and Ayla than my pride."

I swayed slightly on my feet. "But—"

"I've got money saved, Sara. The sale of the house in Boston should help you take care of any outstanding bills or debts you have, and if it doesn't, Jace's life insurance will. I have some money in savings—not an exorbitant amount, but enough to take care of the bare essentials for over a year. And I have twelve weeks vacation they're required to pay me for within two weeks… We're just fine. I promise."

I inhaled sharply, willing my heart to slow, and he pulled me against him, wrapping her arms around both Ayla and I and running his hands comfortingly up and down my back for several minutes. When he pulled back, I felt calmer and the grin was slowly seeping back into his features. "So… you really just up and quit?"

He laughed, hugging me again. "Oh, I had a few choice words about the lab losing their grant money and the sheriff's reaction and him paying the price for his own overinflated ego…"

"They'll lose grant money?"

He smiled. "Nah… The lab director is a problem solver. I expect a phone call before he mails the check, asking what it would take to get me to call those particular organizations and assure them that the lab still deserves the grant money, even if I'm not there…"

I pulled back, looking into his eyes. "And you're going to do it…?"

His lips twitched, like he was trying to hold back his laughter. "…Once Ecklie's had some time to sweat it out, yeah… The City of Sin needs all the help it can get."

"Especially if Ayla's going to be growing up here." I added, thinking that it certainly didn't help the city's reputation in my mind if Gil wasn't in the Crime Lab… it was like giving the depravity an edge. I realized belatedly that he hadn't answered me and looked up at him in surprise. He had an uncertain look on his face, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to speak his mind or not. I narrowed my eyes, "…Gil?"

He sighed heavily. "I, uh… I didn't want to do this tonight, Sara. I wanted to wait until… until after Jace's funeral, and… I wanted to have the whole… moment planned out." I blinked uncertainly, and he sighed again. "I… Sara, I want to take you to Paris. No, I… I want to marry you in Paris." And then he was on bended knee, in this very public place, holding my right hand instead of my left because my left arm was tucked under Ayla. I felt lightheaded again, staring at him in surprise. "You were right, Sara, when you said that I'm different. For some reason I've always been impulsive when it comes to you, and I feel even more so now. …Most people don't get three chances at happiness, like we have. … I feel like I would be a fool not to seize it. …Sara, I'm sorry that all three times I've asked you this question have been spur of the moment and unplanned, without a ring to offer you… but I will never love another woman, my whole life long, the way I love you. …Be my wife, Sara. Make me the happiest man in the world. …Say you'll marry me."

I felt with some surprise that there were tears streaming down my face. I sniffled, pulling my hand from his despite his somewhat alarmed expression in order to dig my fingers under the collar of my shirt, where I had put fastened the chain with his grandmother's ring before leaving Boston—I had been afraid to leave it there, but more afraid to leave it in luggage. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. "…Gil, help me."

It took him a moment to realize what I was doing, and then he was leaping to his feet, unfastening the chain, and sliding the ring off it. "I didn't think you were still wearing this…"

I sniffled. "I took it off when I called you to come help with Ayla…"

His eyes shone at my words and I wondered briefly if he was going to cry, but then he was kneeling again and I was shifting Ayla onto my right arm and he was sliding the ring onto my left ring finger—very little else in my life had ever made me feel so right. A sob escaped my lips and I tugged him to his feet, falling into his arms and clinging to him as the sounds of applause began to filter through my awareness—we were still outside the Venetian, and a large group of tourists had apparently watched our very private moment. I blushed and pulled back, seeing the same surprise and discomfort in Gil's gaze at the realization.

We both wiped our eyes self-consciously, waving in embarrassment at the bystanders and making a hasty getaway. We were quiet in the car, simply holding hands and breathing while he drove. Ayla remained asleep and when we got inside, I pushed aside the feeling of guilt and laid her on a folded over comforter in Gil's bathroom, so that we could put a door between her and us…

It felt like we were already married as we slowly undressed together, not in a fit of impassioned kisses, but on opposite sides of the bed with slow, calm smiles on our faces. We took turns going to the bathroom down the hall. Gil retrieved us both a bottle of water from the fridge which I politely thanked him for and placed on the nightstand, unopened. Anything from that fridge…

And then we moved together, my head falling to his chest easily, our hands gently moving over each other's chests and backs, a gentle exploration. We both knew, after the emotion of the night, exactly where this was going… but we were in no hurry to get there. I sighed softly, laying a kiss to his chest, and looked up at him lovingly. "So… you don't want to live in Vegas?" I brought up, because his proposal had cut our conversation a little short.

He shrugged. "I'm not opposed to living here… I was just saying that I don't care where we live. My only concrete plans are to take you to Paris and marry you… after that, we can go wherever you want."

"…Why Paris?"

He smiled softly. "…When you first told me where your dream honeymoon would be, you suggested Paris and Costa Rica. …Although, the place I have in mind, for our wedding, isn't exactly in Paris… is it close enough simply to be in France?"

My heart was thumping and my eyelids fluttered. "…You already have a place in mind?"

A slow smile slid over his lips and he bent down to me, laying a soft kiss on my lips. "I do… if that's alright?" His kissed moved to my neck and I felt goose bumps break out across my arms, down my spine, over my legs, filling me with a deep, pulsating warmth. I nodded as a breathy sigh slipped from my lips, and that grin he had indulged in all night was back, making me feel weak-kneed. …Oh, I had always loved Gil, but… I definitely, definitely liked the new Gil.


	90. Chapter 90

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So, I know I implied that this chapter would be smut... and I even had half a chapter of smut written. But it's been a bleak, rainy kind of day... and this came much easier. I promise, I'll make it up to you. We're actually in a tornado warning right now... me and the fiance and the bunny are all hanging out in the bathroom (the only room in our apartment without a window). :)

CSIKathy... No tissues needed yet, I don't think.

Enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!

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Chapter Ninety:

The flight left at five a.m. and we landed in San Francisco just after seven—we'd been slightly delayed due to the rain. Ayla was overtired and crabby because she was hungry, so despite our desire to hurry, we decided to stop in a restaurant in the airport for a quick bite. She was still a little grumpy and her head was bobbing while we walked, she was so tired, so while Gil waited to collect our surely rain-soaked luggage, I took Ayla into the ladies room to nurse for a few minutes. I'd hadn't necessarily been weaning her—I planned to switch to milk when she turned a year, but up until then I wanted her to keep nursing… but she just didn't seem to want it as often. It seemed like it was more of a comfort thing, and the day we had ahead of us, I could see where she might need a little comfort.

Hell, even I felt like the bonding time might be nice.

She fell asleep after maybe two minutes and I laid her against my shoulder, packed up the blanket I'd used to cover myself, and hurried out the door to find Gil. He had pulled off my large suitcase by the time I arrived and we were simply waiting on his—the rental car agency was providing us with a car seat, which certainly lightened the load. Once he had it, we moved over to the rental agency, and I sat with Ayla and the luggage while he dealt with the paperwork—he'd rented it in his name.

It seemed to take forever—when I had sat down the tall windows around me had simply shown a dark sky over a gray-tinted landscape and a light rain was pattering on the windows—by the time he came over to me, there was lightning streaking across the sky and though it was not raining any harder than it had been, the wind had picked up and it was lashing the gentle droplets into the window. I pulled the blanket out again, this time spreading it over Ayla, not wanting the chill of the rain to wake her up—she needed her sleep, because the funeral was over her regular nap time.

We had to walk, thankfully under mostly covered walkways, to a shuttle… which took us to the rental place, which did not have the cars covered. Once again, Gil left me sitting with Ayla and the luggage, insisting he would go get the car and bring it over for us so we could stay dry. When he drove the car around, he was wet from his curls to just below his shoulders… but the overhang didn't extend into the road, so he had to load the luggage into the trunk in the rain and then mess with Ayla's car seat with the lower half of his body sticking out of the car.

…He was absolutely drenched by the time he gestured that I should hurry around and get in and we would strap Ayla in from inside the car. I called our hotel, having already made arrangements to have a room that hadn't been rented out the previous night, because we would need a place to change, and they assured me that they had everything taken care of… so we went there first, even though the funeral was in several hours. Gil needed to change, and Ayla needed a little downtime before we faced Jace's family.

Thankfully, the hotel did have a drive through overhang, and by the time we were sliding the key card into the door to enter our hotel room, Gil's clothes were starting to dry out. I told him to take a hot shower and that I would get everything settled, and despite his inner gentleman telling him not to allow it, he was clearly cold and miserable… so he nodded and hurried in. I laid Ayla down in the center of the bed, covering her up with an extra blanket as the room was slightly chilly—they hadn't had the thermostat on as it was summer in San Francisco, but the rain had made the day rather bleak and cold.

I set up Gil's luggage on the luggage stand and pulled out his suit and dress shirt, hanging them over the bathroom door, hoping the steam would take out the few wrinkles and that I wouldn't find myself ironing—I had packed it as carefully as I could. Next, I set my own suitcase up on the chair in the corner of the room, pulling out the only black dress I had that could not be called a 'little black dress.' The fabric was lightweight enough that I wasn't worried about wrinkles, but I hung it just the same, and then pulled out Ayla's dress to hang—it was dark blue, and the only thing she had that would have been remotely appropriate… I hadn't had the time nor the presence of mind to go shopping in the wake of Jace's death.

Finally feeling like we were back on track, the rain having messed with my tightly-planned mental schedule of the day, I sighed and slipped out of my jeans and t-shirt, stepping into the shower with Gil. I hadn't planned to join him, but the rain was making this day even harder and the idea of being wrapped up in his arms under soothing, hot water was too hard to resist. I threw my schedule out the window then, taking advantage of the seemingly endless supply of hot water, and just let him hold me. …It was going to be a difficult day.

When we emerged, however, it became clear that we did need to get ready… I dried myself off in the bedroom area, letting Gil use the small bathroom first to trim his beard, brush his teeth again, and try to tame his unruly curls. Then, he went to dress while I dried my hair, tried my best to tame curls that made his seem gentle, and did my makeup. Gil was already dressed when I stepped out, and Ayla was stirring. It didn't even take the glance I shot at him to ask him to take her—he was already moving over to her, lifting her gently into his arms. He started to rock her and I took my clothing and left the room, turning out the lights, hoping she might slip back to sleep.

I closed the bathroom door and glanced at my reflection, and then turned to my dress. …The dress I was wearing to my husband's funeral. …In the last year, I had thought many things about Jace and I's relationship, guilt among them—I thought that perhaps if I had handled my attraction to Gil better, Jace might have dealt with it better. …Whether it was true or not, it had been a thought that plagued me. Still, in all those thoughts… imaginings… I had never, ever seen myself as a widow. I felt tears well and despite feeling that it would be better if I didn't, I looked up at my reflection. I was still clad in a towel, though my hair was dry and my makeup done. My eyes were red, giving away my emotion despite trying to blink it back.

I missed Jace.

And I felt guilty for it. I mean, I didn't miss him being controlling and I didn't miss fighting and I didn't miss feeling like a prisoner. I was aware of what our past entailed. …But I did miss the sweet man who would have gone to the ends of the earth for me. I missed the Jace who knew I was spiraling into a depression when I myself was unaware. I missed the Jace who hadn't been willing to give up on me, in the beginning. The Jace who made me see that the world wasn't black and white… the Jace who rescued me, and was my friend and lover and support system for years. …The Jace who might have called off the wedding and given me his blessing, if I'd told him I wanted to be with Gil before I married him… before we were pregnant.

I didn't want to be with him and I didn't regret loving Gil and I didn't condone his actions… but I loved the man. Not as a lover, anymore, but as more than a friend… and certainly not as a brother. But I knew the man's good heart and honest soul and I loved who he was, at his core. And I missed him.

I forced myself to sit on the edge of the tub and roll up my nylons, push my toe in, and draw them up my legs. I pushed myself to put on my underwear and my nursing bra and to put Gil's ring back on the chain around my neck for a few hours—he had expressed, on the plane, his guilt for asking me before we'd even buried my husband, and we'd decided it would be more respectful to Jace—and then carefully pulled the dress over my head, contorting awkwardly to avoid messing up my hair or getting deodorant lines on the black fabric. I zipped it, slipped into my heels, and braced my hands on the countertop, looking into the mirror.

I wasn't sure, exactly, what had led me to this moment. …How many infinitesimal little chances had contributed to the events of my life? Even if you didn't go back further than my arrival in San Francisco… Jace had found me on the side of the interstate just before his exit—had I broken down a mile later, we might never have met. …If I had listened to him and gotten a new car immediately, I might never have been attacked… and I might never have given him a chance. We might never have dated. …I didn't really do the bar scene, and neither did Gil… How strange was it that we had both ended up in the bar that night? And if I hadn't been selling a suck-for-a-buck, would I even have seen him? …If we hadn't known each other from the previous night, would we have even noticed each other at the conference?

How was it that we both ended up on the same cruise? And I was pregnant—it had seemed unlucky at the time, though I had certainly never regret having Ayla, but now it seemed… without her, would Gil and I have ever come back together? …Without her, would I remember the precise twist of Jace's lips when he was amused? …Would Jace be alive, if we'd never had her?

It was with surprise that I realized I had tears streaming down my face and I pulled several Kleenex from the in-counter hotel dispenser, wiping my eyes and blowing my nose and looking to see how much of my makeup I would have to redo. I was too young to be a widow. …I was wearing a nursing bra to my husband's funeral, for Christ's sake. Ayla was too young to have lost her father.

I forced composure, reapplied a little foundation and mascara—waterproof—and exited the bathroom. Ayla was awake and though Gil had changed her diaper and changed her into the dress I'd laid out, he had tried to pull her little white tights on the way you pull on pants… and it wasn't working so well for either of them. Ayla looked severely frustrated that she had woken up to endure this, and Gil was baffled as to how the damned things were supposed to work. I knelt on the floor in front of where he sat with Ayla in his lap, pulling the tights down and bunching them, sliding a foot in and pulling them past her knee and then repeating the process, before having her stand so I could pull them up around her diaper. Gil watched me in amazement, and I felt a small smile move over my face.

"You know… if you witness too many of these secrets, I might have to kill you." I joke, feeling the small smile to my core and desperately wanting to retain some of its warmth. He smirked.

"You know, until I understand how you manage to take one thing off while it's still under something else or what you do with that creepy scissors thing… I think I'm safe."

I frowned, and then, "…An eyelash curler?"

"Is that what it is? It looks dangerous."

I snorted a laugh, tugging Ayla's shoes over to where I was kneeling in front of him and lifting her to sit on his lap again so I could slide them over her feet and fasten them. Once I was done, I glanced up at him, and watched his eyes flicker over to the clock on the nightstand. I followed his gaze, and when I turned back, he was looking at me. "…Are you ready?"

I nodded slowly—we were meeting with Jace's family and going to the funeral en masse. I, of course, had tried to get out of it, but Jace's dad had insisted that we stick together, as a family… and made a point to clarify that Gil was part of the family too, and that Susan had promised to behave. …If we didn't leave now, we'd be late. I nodded again, swallowing hard. "Let me… grab my purse."

I pulled it from my suitcase and moved to the bathroom, filling it with tissues and double-checking my appearance and that the ring was tucked safely beneath my dress. Then, I picked up Ayla's diaper bag, going through it to be certain we had everything we would need, and slung it over my shoulder. Gil stood, Ayla on his hip, and slipped a room key into his pocket. I picked up the car keys and passed them to him, suggesting that we see if the hotel's for-your-convenience center had an umbrella we could buy… and we headed out.

As if it were any other day, and we were headed to any other place. …The normalcy of the moment was almost frightening, but I pushed it aside. I didn't have the time, today, to be concerned with how it ought to feel or how I wanted us to behave differently than most days. Today, not only was I a widow… I felt like one.


	91. Chapter 91

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry once again for the long delay-it's been a busy week and weekend. Father's Day and all that, and then my Dad's 61st birthday is on Tuesday! :) Plus, I struggled with what, exactly, I wanted to do with this chapter...

So, I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

* * *

Chapter Ninety One:

It was… extremely uncomfortable, stepping into the home that Susan had left and come back to, before and after our affair. Jace's eldest sister was living in it now—his parents having moved, according to Sara, to New York. Sara understood my sentiments, at least, and slid her hand into mine as we walked up the narrow sidewalk to the front door together. She knocked, but then let herself in a moment later, and with a bleak certainty that this would be nothing but awkward, I followed her inside.

I wasn't sure how much of the decorating was new and how much had remained from when Susan and her husband—Tom, I had learned—had raised their children here. …I wasn't sure I wanted to know, either. I was certain I would have nightmares about a twelve year old Jace in this house crying for his mommy while four hundred miles away I'd been bent over a desk in his mother's office, flinching from just the sound of the ruler, knowing what was coming…

Sara closed the door behind us and it closed with a snap, making me flinch—my thoughts on rulers apparently a little too close to the forefront of my mind. Sara glanced at me, a little curiously, but didn't ask, which I was thankful for. She didn't know the extent of Susan and I's relationship… she knew that the woman had been controlling and possessive, and that she liked that I was a student… but she didn't know the extremes to which I had allowed myself to be used. She didn't know about rulers or handcuffs or begging for and earning scores on tests I'd already legitimately passed… or the very real punishments when I honestly did get a question wrong on an assignment.

And she didn't need to—it had taken me years and years to deal with it, and I had. At this point, it would serve no purpose to be brought to the surface other than to absolutely mortify me and make Sara's pretty features contort in pity, which I was entirely unprepared for.

She set the diaper bag and the umbrella that we had needed to get to the car but which was presently unnecessary, the day still bleak and gray, but the rain having slowed and stopped in the last ten minutes of the drive here. Then, she offered her hands, silently asking if I wanted her to take Ayla from me. I shook my head, holding the small girl closer to me, and she nodded in understanding… I was uncomfortable here, and holding Ayla gave me something to do without being part of the main interaction.

Then, she turned and walked ahead of me, black dress and nylons and shoes making her a picture of grief and mourning and reminding me with every click of her heels exactly why we were here and what day it was. I followed behind, through a kitchen which was very modern, a dining room which troubled me because it looked as if it had changed very little in the last twenty years, and finally into a living room where the entire family was seated. The TV was turned on, but the volume was low, and no one really seemed to be watching it.

Tom was seated in the largest armchair, clearly the patriarch of the family, despite his wife's controlling ways… I wondered briefly if that was why she'd left him… because no matter how hard she tried and no matter what her family allowed her to get away with, he was still the head of the family. Susan was on the larger of the two couches, with the woman I recognized as Jace's eldest sister, the owner of this home now. Beside her was a man I didn't recognize, but from his hand gently running over the small of her back, I assumed it was her husband. On the smaller of the two couches were the two younger sisters, the middle sister squished between her husband and the youngest of the girls, the one Sara could tolerate. Her husband had a four year old standing shyly between his knees and there was an infant car seat on the floor, holding a sleeping child. Sitting on the floor in front of the TV, were three children who I assumed were the eldest daughter's children by the way they seemed to be treating this house as their home, shoes not on, dress clothing hanging limp and unfastened in places, mouths open and eyes on the television.

Sara and I stopped in the entrance to the living room, and an awkward hush fell over the room as all eyes fell on us. Even the three on the floor turned a moment later, when a commercial flickered over the screen. I swallowed convulsively, feeling how tense Sara was beside me. Tom broke the tension, standing from his seat of power and moving over to us, as if there were no reason in the world why this should seem strange. "Sara… good to see you, honey. How are you holding up?" He pulled her into a tight hug and I watched her slight frame tremble while the muffled sound of her sniffling against his chest could be heard.

"I'm okay."

He pulled back gently, his gentle eyes studying her face carefully, and then nodding slowly. He turned to me, offering me a hand. "Gil…" I took it and we shook before leaned in and patted my back in a man-hug that surprisingly made me feel like one of the family, despite my strange, strange relationship to it. He backed up, smiled, and turned his gaze to Ayla. "…Can Grandpa see you, honey?" He asked her, holding his hands out. I glanced at Sara who nodded just as Ayla was flinging herself forward into the man's arms. I released her to him, and he grinned and moved back to his chair, bouncing her on his knee. There were no available seats without squeezing in close, so we stood on the edge, Tom the only person in the room who seemed unaffected by our presence there.

After a painfully long moment, Jace's youngest sister asked Sara about her flight and while Sara hesitantly answered that it had been fine—that Ayla had slept most of the way—the others picked up their old conversations and the children turned back to the television. Thankfully, we only lingered for roughly fifteen minutes before Tom suggested that we get going so we were at the funeral far enough ahead of time to greet people. I was relieved and, as Sara and I were standing only a few feet in from the doorway, we led everyone else out and into the kitchen where the children from the floor were straightened out to look presentable and the family discussed carpooling as everyone moved outside and Sara collected the diaper bag.

The eldest sister—I couldn't for the life of me remember her name—had a minivan that would seat seven. The youngest sister and Susan piled in with the three children, which left us, Tom, and the middle sister's family, with two cars either way… Tom said he'd join us, and in one long line, the three cars made their way to the church in which Sara and Jace had been married—the church Jace had grown up attending, I knew. …It was hard to even walk through the doors—I could hear Sara's 'I do' ringing in my ears, and I had to remind myself forcefully that all of that was behind us.

Jace's coffin was out in the entryway, an open casket, and I felt my stomach rolling even from a distance. …I had last seen that face uttering its dying wishes on ragged breaths. I felt tears prick my eyes, but a glance at Susan had me fighting them back fiercely. I had cried in front of her more times than I cared to remember. I glanced at Sara. "I, uh… I can take Ayla… into the sanctuary…" I offered, thinking that with all the times Ayla had asked about Jace since his death, the last thing she probably needed was to see him look like he was sleeping. …She would not understand what it meant.

Sara's eyes were bloodshot when she nodded, turning to Tom who still held her and had clearly heard my words. He passed Ayla back to me and I was grateful she came willingly, rather than wishing to stay with Mommy or Grandpa… which would have been understandable. Children could sense emotion, even if they didn't understand the reasons behind it… and with everyone so upset, it would have been natural for her to want to stay with Sara. …I squeezed Sara's hand in parting, berating myself for not staying to offer her some strength and comfort, and took Ayla through the large doors, down the aisle, and into one of the front rows that were already marked as 'reserved'.

She smiled at me and pointed to my face again. "Gla." This time it was less of an exclamation and more a calm statement—she was informing me of what they were. I smiled.

"Glasses."

"Gla." She repeated, and then leaned forward, her little arms circling my neck in an almost choke-hold of a hug. "Dada?" She asked me, and I wondered if she'd recognized Jace from so far away, or if her question was unrelated. I sighed.

"…Daddy's buh-bye. Daddy got owies and he had to go buh-bye."

"Buh-bye?" She asked me, and I sighed again, wishing she had either been younger or older when she'd had to endure this… because there was no way she could possibly understand, long-term, even something as simple as 'Daddy buh-bye.' If she were younger, she would know he was gone, but I wouldn't feel as obligated to answer her questions each time… and if she were older, she might understand. …She would remember, and not have to learn anew each time she asked that her Daddy wasn't coming back.

I nodded, and she laid her head on my shoulder, seeming suddenly very tired, despite her long nap only an hour previous… but then, grief was often an exhausting emotion. …I wondered if she understood the situation well enough to truly feel grief, but I didn't get to speculate more than a moment before I felt a body slide into the pew beside me. I turned, expecting Sara, and came face to face with Susan instead.

I cursed myself for the audible gasp I let out, causing Ayla to lift her head and turn to look at the woman. She smiled and reached for her, and I shifted her to the other side of my body, feeling guilty for ignoring her clear desires. Susan raised an eyebrow. "I was surprised to hear you telling her that 'Daddy' went buh-bye, Gil."

I clenched my teeth, and breathed in deeply, wanting very much to look behind me and find some reinforcements, but I also didn't want her to see me looking… I didn't want to show a sign of weakness. At my silence, she chuckled softly, the sound echoing quietly in the stillness of the sanctuary. "I just figured you'd be taking my son's place… telling her that _you_ are 'Daddy' now… You're very good at that…taking my son's places."

My jaw was set and I shook my head. "I'm not going to be baited today, Susan. …Despite what you believe about me, I have a lot of respect for Jace… he was a good man. I'm not going to do this, here."

Her hand fell onto my thigh, somehow caressing and applying force simultaneously. "Oh? …Then where would you like to do… this?"

I moved my left hand from Ayla's side where it had held her steady while my right arm held her up, and lifted her hand by the wrist, removing it. "That? Nowhere. A confrontation about how you think I'm trying to take your son's place…? Anywhere else, on any other day."

Her smile was coy and she leaned in a little closer—not so much that her family members in the lobby could interpret her true intentions, but close enough to make the hair on my neck and arms stand on end, even in the heavy suit I was wearing. "…Tell me, Gil… does Sara use a ruler too? Does she tie you down?" I swallowed convulsively, trying to simply block her out, but her voice was so close and quiet in my ear, implanting itself in my thoughts, reminiscent of other whispered words from a lifetime ago. "Or do you find yourself unsatisfied, because she doesn't? …She doesn't seem like she's got it in her. I mean, she's probably not vanilla… but she's no Rocky Road, like me, is she?"

I turned to her abruptly, speaking in a hushed voice. "Enough. You're not going to make me snap at you or run from you… Ayla needs to be in here, because seeing… the body… will only confuse her. If you have any love for her as your grandchild, leave well enough alone, instead of baiting me in front of her, with no regard for her at all."

She frowned deeply. "I do love Ayla, just as I loved my son. More than a man who has never been a father could understand in his paltry feelings for his surrogate child, daughter of his married whore of a girlfriend."

I fought every nerve in my body that was telling me to stand… to go anywhere else… or to simply stay and yell at her. I balled my fists and curled my toes and grit my teeth. "Susan…" I warned, and a pain-filled smile crossed her face, understanding dawning. …Tormenting me was her way of dealing with her grief over Jace's death. She couldn't stop herself…

"Now, back to you and my oh-so-faithful daughter in law… I remember how hard you used to get, just at the suggestion of me tying you down and using your body for my own pleasures… how you'd beg me…" I was shaking, looking behind me now for some help, uncaring that she could see, and she smirked slyly. "I don't think you're the type of man to just wish for what you can't have, but you're with her… so it must be that you've turned it around. …You snap the ruler now, don't you? …Do you wear leather, Gil? Do you buy complicated contraptions to keep her bound and contorted while you work out your anger at me on her innocent little body?"

I stood up, finally willing to run from her. I swallowed convulsively, shaking with anger, and it was only more than twenty years of devout religious upbringing that kept my voice quiet in this place. "Stop it. Your son is dead, and I'm very sorry about that, but I'm not a naïve nineteen year old boy you can manipulate into believing that your compulsions are normal in the bedroom and that my hesitancy was a symptom of my ignorance rather than my lack of desire. Whatever you think of Sara and I, this is not the time or place to air your grievances, nor attempt to upset me with your wildly off-base speculations. Enough is enough!"

Though this all came on a whisper, the tone of my voice communicated my anger—I was shaking with it—and then I was sliding out of the pew past her, storming down the aisle with Ayla on my hip, and miraculously, Sara was on her way up, so that I wouldn't need to bring Ayla within sight of Jace again. "…Are you okay? What happened, Gil?"

I shook my head, finding myself tense and breathless and fighting back tears again—how was it that the woman could still reduce me to such weakness? I wanted to scream and punch a wall… destroy something violently… anything to provide an outlet for my absolute rage, not at her words, but at the fact that anything she said could have any effect on me at all. "Nothing…" I said, my voice rough and trembling, with a hard edge beneath it. "I'm fine."

She frowned, clearly disbelieving me, but she pulled me into her loving, gentle arms, and I felt my shuddering body still, melting into her with a desperation that reminded me too forcefully of being a child trying to mold themselves to their mother's frame, so in need they are of comfort. Her small hands slid up my back, pressed against the back of my neck, and held me tight to her. And when she pulled back from me, a moment later, I felt so much more stable… more calm. She slipped a hand into mine and offered a small smile. "…There's a vending machine, over in the Youth Group areas. Lets grab a bottle of water and take a few minutes, yeah?"

I nodded, running a hand over my jaw, wondering if my level of distress had been as visible as her actions implied. I followed her out of the sanctuary and to the right, in the direction of the doors rather than Jace's casket, turning down a hallway just beside the doors and following her down it and finally into a large room, complete with pool tables, vending machines, tables and chairs, pinball machines, and, in one corner, several large, worn, squashy couches around a TV.

She closed the door behind us, locked it, and together we moved to the couches, plopping down to just take a minute. His family had been more than a little overwhelming, even with Susan's tormenting, and we'd only spent an hour with them at this point… there was much more—much worse—to endure before this day would be over.


	92. Chapter 92

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sorry once again for the long delay. From the length of this chapter, I'm sure you can understand why it took so long. Also, my dad's birthday was yesterday and at four in the afternoon I got a call in which my parents suggested we drive to a city over an hour away to meet them for dinner. :) It was nice, but understandably, took up pretty much my whole night last night.

CSIKathy, I doubt you'll need tissues yet. If it comes at all, it'll be the next chapter... but I'm not certain how that's going to play out. Maybe there won't be an entended funeral scene. We'll see. :)

GSRMania-I missed you! :) Welcome back. So sorry about that egg problem. Hehe. And here I thought I'd lost you... when I had Grissom and Catherine go on the cruise together, like ten people stopped reading because they were convinced I was going to have grillows, despite my adament assurances that I would not... I'm glad to know you didn't give up on me! Lol. Btw, what does your husband think of Jace now? How about the MILFFH? :)

Enjoy!

Oh! Sorry, one more thing. Sooo, the second memory details when Sara was attacked and almost raped, and it's a little bit graphic. If you want to not read it, skip the second set of italics. You don't miss anything plot-wise that would make you lost. :)

Okay, _now_ you can enjoy...

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Chapter Ninety Two:

When the sounds of more people arriving drifted back to our little hideaway, I sighed and stood, preparing myself for the ordeal. Gil and I wouldn't be able to hold hands or be close—we had already decided it would be easier to not have to explain or try to defend ourselves to the people mourning for Jace—but at least his family would also have to keep their glances to a minimum, and Susan would leave Gil alone. …He wouldn't tell me exactly what she'd said, but the look in his eyes told me clearly enough that it had been bad.

Before we left San Francisco, I vowed I would have words with the woman, because Gil was too respectful to have them himself, either in a church or in front of the rest of the family. …Today, for Jace's memory, I could understand refraining, but after…

We walked out together, Ayla once more on my hip, and were instantly bombarded… Jace had grown up in San Francisco, so the entire place was packed… old teachers, kids he'd gone to high school with, the guys at the garage as well as Al and Betty, both of whom hugged me until inhaling became a struggle and Gil stepped up to introduce himself as a friend of the family, simply so they would release me. And everyone kept telling me they were sorry… they were just so sorry and they were so worried about me and if I needed anything I shouldn't hesitate to ask. …Which was a nice sentiment, but it was extremely overwhelming.

And then, out of the crowd, came my utter salvation—Kyleigh and Michelle, hand-in-hand, eyes red. As soon as I saw them they were rushing to me, wrapping me up in their embrace, and I felt so relieved… if I couldn't seek comfort with Gil, then the next best thing were my best friends. I had called them, once we knew the plan for Jace's funeral, and though it had been a difficult conversation, I was glad I'd forced myself to do it—I wasn't up to answering questions just now, especially not about Gil. I pulled back a moment later, to introduce him, but they didn't need it—they flung themselves at him as well, hugging him tightly, his face adorably bewildered as he patted each of their backs. I smirked as they pulled back. "Oh, it's so good to finally meet you… We've talked, a little. I'm Michelle."

"And I'm Kyleigh!" Gil smirked at that—the two women looked nothing alike, Kyleigh blonde and blue-eyed, long and lean, Michelle with dark hair and eyes, shorter and curvier… If you knew anything about either woman, you would never mistake one for the other.

"It's nice to meet you, ladies." He responded politely.

Kyleigh giggled and glanced at me. "Oh, he's just adorable!" Gil blushed.

Michelle smiled and then her face slipped into a sympathetic look. "…Sara." That's all it took—my bottom lip quivered, my eyes burned, and then I was crying and they were both hugging me again.

I was extremely grateful when it became clear that it was almost time for the service to start and the entry area was clearing out. We still had not gone close to Jace's casket—I had when Gil took Ayla inside, but it had been too hard to see him that way… not looking real, his hands plastic, the makeup on his face too thick and a shade off his natural color. I was happy not to see it again… in my line of work, you learned to separate who the person was from the shell in which they came.

We slipped into the sanctuary, me sliding up next to Tom with Gil on my left, Kyleigh and Michelle in the row behind us, Ayla sitting on the pew between us, drawing a foot up into her lap and trying to unfasten her shoe and pull it off. I sighed softly, letting my eyes close for a long moment when the minister began speaking—not the one who had married us, who I still had not entirely forgiven for disregarding my requests on the wording of the ceremony.

I should have paid attention… but this didn't feel like Jace, and so I felt my mind wandering instead to moments in the past that we had shared. Not the recent ones, though there was the rare moment here and there that in the past year or two I could say I remembered quite fondly… but I focused on ones that weren't tempered by the reality of all we'd done to one another.

_"Shit!" I climbed out of my car and kicked the wheel of my piece of shit car that somehow managed to make it across the country, but not the few miles between my apartment and the grocery store. I ran my hands through hair that was already slightly damp with sweat—my air conditioning only half worked anyway, but I'd turned it off when the car started to make strange sounds, hoping that it would help. _

_I glanced around me, thinking that I would have to walk to the nearest gas station and use their phone or see if they had a tow truck… but a glance at the following exit showed me an area covered in warehouses. I didn't have a cell phone, so I would just have to find someone who would pull over and give me a lift to a gas station. …I mean, with this many cars passing me, it couldn't be that hard, could it?_

_…Twenty minutes passed before a dark blue vehicle passed me, but did slow and pull off just before the exit I was in front of, flashers on. I swallowed hard, reminding myself that it was broad daylight and very public… if this guy was creepy, I could always refuse to go with him. He wasn't going to do anything right here. _

_The driver side door opened, and one of the sexiest men I'd ever seen stepped out. He was in jeans that fit snugly in the right places and hung just right in others, making him look simultaneously sexy and rebellious. His black hair was parted in the center and fell onto his forehead, and even from a distance his eyes were striking. The black t-shirt he wore only emphasized that he was in peak physical condition, and the concerned look on his face was absolutely genuine… disarming. I immediately trusted him. _

_"Car trouble?"_

_I sighed, embarrassed. "Yeah… I probably just pushed it too hard. Any chance I could use a cell phone or catch a ride somewhere that can tow me?"_

_He shook his head. "Nope. Pop the hood."_

_I blinked. "Excuse me?"_

_"I can probably at least get it to get you home… save you some money. Pop the hood."_

_I paused, bewildered, but moved to my door, waiting for a slight lull in traffic before attempting to open it and grasp around for the lever. I tugged on one and the trunk opened—he chuckled softly and I blushed, opening the hood and then slamming my door before going and slamming the trunk as well. _

_He was already bent over, under the hood, peering in, and I moved up the passenger side of the car, avoiding the busy interstate, leaning against the cement guard rail and watching him. The muscles in his arms flexed as he gripped the edge he was leaning on. He murmured something about something overheating, which I didn't understand, and reached into the depths of the engine. "Jace Wendt."_

_I blinked in surprise, my eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. "Huh? …Oh. Sara. Sara Sidle."_

_"You put a lot of miles on this car recently?"_

_"Oh… yeah. I… I just moved to town from Boston, actually."_

_"You drove… this car… from Boston?"_

_"It's… the only car I have."_

_He shook his head, muttering something else about random car part A and random car part B and how that explained what was wrong… he went back to his car, retrieving a tool set from his trunk. Within half an hour, he had me try to start it, and though it whined feebly when I did, it did start. He grinned, closing the hood. "Do you have far to go?"_

_"I, uh… No, not really. It's a couple of exits down…"_

_"Address?" I told him the street, and he nodded. "No, that's not too far… the important thing is to get off the interstate. The car should be fine, short-term, as long as you don't take it up to high speeds again."_

_"…Like, stay below seventy five, eighty?"_

_He grinned. "No, like… thirty, thirty five."_

_"What?"_

_He pursed his lips, trying to stave off his laughter. "It's not in good shape, Sara." It was the first time he'd said my name, and I liked the way it sounded coming from his mouth. It gave me butterflies. "Listen, at the risk of sounding like a stalker, I'd like to follow you until you get to your apartment… make sure it doesn't break down on you again."_

_I blushed, but felt my heart fluttering at his words. "Thanks. I appreciate it."_

_He did follow me until I managed to park in outside my apartment, and then I got out of the car, moving over to his open window. _

_"Thanks again. It was really… so nice of you."_

_"My pleasure… My dad taught me you never leave a lady in distress. If you can help, you should."_

_I smiled, thinking that I had just found the most amazing guy in the world, and I had to find a way to keep the conversation going… make sure I would see him again… something. "…How do you know so much about cars anyway? Something you learned from your dad too?"_

_He shook his head. "No, I've been working in a garage since I was sixteen… learned everything there was to know about cars the first year or so I worked there. Al, the man who owns it… he's really a genius when it comes to cars."_

_I felt a wave of disappointment that was followed rapidly by guilt. I hadn't worked my whole life to end up with a mechanic. I mean, they made good money, but how intellectually stimulating could one be? …I had worked my ass off to avoid having a working class life. But damn, the man was beautiful…and sweet… and a gentleman. I bit my bottom lip and realized I had yet to respond to him. "…Well, anyway, it was nice to meet you… Jace. I can't thank you enough."_

_I turned to go, and his hand caught mine. It was large and warm and exceedingly gentle. "Hey… I know that, uh… we just met on the side of the road and that this… might seem weird… but is there any way I could call you sometime? Take you to dinner? …Show you the city?"_

_I wanted to say yes, but I reminded myself of the way I'd grown up, before foster care, and grit my teeth. "I, uh… I don't think so. I'm sorry. …Thanks again." And I hurried away from him, into the building, ignoring the thudding in my chest. _

I smiled softly, lifting my head at the mention of my name… the minister had just said something to the effect of, '…his grieving wife, Sara.' I realized that smiling demurely was perhaps not the best thing I could be doing in this moment, with all eyes turning to me… but I felt like remembering the very best of Jace was a better tribute than this lengthy pomp and circumstance. The minister continued, and I let my mind drift again…

_My goddamn car had stalled, again. I had been putting off buying a new one, because I really didn't want to spend the money. I had just moved across the country in the last month or so, just started a new job, and just started a new semester at school… I wasn't exactly rolling in cash. I mean, I had some money in savings that I could spend if I had to… but I would really prefer to not spend it as long as possible. _

_I slammed my palms against the steering wheel and glanced at the empty parking lot around me—I'd just finished a night class and, being the overachiever that I was, had stayed late to ask the teacher some questions. She had humored me for almost forty five minutes, and we'd walked out together. Her car was in the teacher's lot, just outside the door… and mine was a five minute walk away. She waved to me and even offered me a ride to my car, but I had already taken up so much of her time… I told her I'd be fine and that it was just around the corner. _

_I mean, it was dark, but the campus was well-lit and it wasn't that late. _

_I had reached the parking lot just fine, but now… I would just have to call Jace. I didn't want to… he liked to tease me that I refused to get a new car simply because I wanted to keep having an excuse to see him. Which wasn't true, although I did like to see him, despite my brain telling me that I should not like or want that at all… I'd run into him a week after he helped me, on campus, and despite warning myself that spending time with a sexy mechanic was exactly how one fell hopelessly in love with a sexy mechanic, we'd grabbed some coffee together and talked a little. _

_I had reluctantly given him my number, under the understanding that we would just be friends, and we'd invited me out to a bonfire on the beach the weekend before school started. I met some of his friends and spent some time with him, although I might have been a little colder to him than necessary to dissuade him—it was just such a romantic setting, and I didn't trust myself not to kiss him when he kept looking at me like that. And, we'd become friends. I slammed my car door and made my way over to a payphone on the sidewalk, beside the bus stop, depositing quarters and dialing the number I embarrassingly knew by heart already. This would be the fourth time I'd called him to fix my car, and if we hadn't spent so many other moments together, I knew he would think I was just using him for his mechanical skills. _

_"Hello?"_

_"Hey Jace."_

_I could hear his smile through the phone. "Sara. …I can't imagine why you would be calling me from a pay phone."_

_I frowned. "How can you tell it's a pay phone?"_

_"For some reason, my phone always rings differently when it's a pay phone… like one really short ring, before the regular rings… So, car won't start?"_

_I sighed. "No… I'm really sorry. Can you help me?"_

_"Of course. We both know it's why you insist on keeping that pile of junk car…it's an excuse to spend more time with me."_

_"Yeah, yeah." I said, glancing around myself, trying to remain aware of my surroundings. As empowered a woman as I liked to believe myself, I still got nervous being out alone at night, especially on campus. _

_"Where are you?"_

_"The student parking lot closest to the physics building. It's behind the—"_

_"String Bean." He replied, naming the coffee shop we'd grabbed coffee at. Realizing, I glanced over at the building hopefully, thinking I'd wait for him there… but the lights were all out. They were closed. _

_"Exactly. Thank you so much, Jace."_

_"Not a problem. I'm leaving right now, okay?"_

_"Great… Bye."_

_"Bye."_

_I hurried back to my car, unlocking it with shaky hands and sliding inside, locking the doors behind me and letting out a sigh of relief. Jace would be here soon, and then I'd be safe at home, in bed. I tried to pass the time by tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. If traffic were right, he would be here in less than a minute. If not, it could be up to five… heck, he could probably walk it in five, if he cut across lawns and the courtyard. I wished I could turn music on… sitting in a locked car in a deserted parking lot in silence… made me feel on edge. Like I was being watched. _

_I sighed and pulled out the paper I'd just been given back today—I had been anxious to read the comments my teacher had written in the margins, but I hadn't wanted to while walking the dark. But if I was stuck, and my doors were locked… It was a large paper—20 pages—and by the time I had gone through, deciphering her handwriting and evaluating each compliment and criticism, I realized that several minutes had passed. I looked around—there was no car in the parking lot still, but there was a man of Jace's size and height walking towards me, from the direction of his home. _

_I opened the car door just as he walked into the trees lining the side of the parking lot, and he stopped. I bit my bottom lip, opening my car door, thinking that maybe in the dark, he wasn't sure if I was in here. He didn't move. …I couldn't be certain, but it almost looked like he'd gestured me over. I stood up, keeping myself tucked between my car and the door, watching him… uncertain. Why would he want me to come there? Why wouldn't he come here? _

_My heart rate accelerated, wild ideas flashing through my head. What if while I was reading my paper, someone had snuck up behind me… was hiding back behind my car. Maybe he thought the person wouldn't attack if I acted like I didn't know he was there. …Or maybe my car was smoking or something, and I hadn't noticed… _

_I knew these were unlikely ideas, but he gestured more clearly to me, so I reached down and grabbed my backpack, slung it over my shoulder, locked my doors, and hurried over to him, thinking that I wasn't necessarily comfortable going over to him… but I was scared to stay in the car. It had to be serious if Jace wouldn't come over to me, right? _

_I couldn't see his face clearly, but the shape of his body I knew, and I walked into the trees, finally feeling relaxed for the first time since I'd started walking tonight. Whatever was going on, in a moment he would explain, and no matter what it was, I would be safe with him here. It wasn't until I was within feet of him that I realized the shape of the hair was wrong, and my eyes were adjusting… it wasn't Jace! I took a hesitant step back, wondering whether I should run or play it cool or see what he'd wanted…_

_He'd already lunged for me, and before I could even make up my mind I was falling to the ground with him on top of me. I landed on my books, and they hurt, but it gave me an idea. I kicked at him and managed to scramble away, tearing the backpack from my shoulders and swinging it around as hard as I could. It hit him hard and his resounding "Oof!" made me feel good. I tightened my grip and backed away, swinging the heavy bag again—but he caught it, yanking it forward and me with it. I stumbled, let go before I fell, and tried to run back towards my car… but he grabbed my ankle. I smacked my face on the ground this time when I fell, and pain shot through me. I didn't know if I'd broken my nose or not, but it hurt…_

_He roughly flipped me over and I was kicking again, frantic, my hands smacking and pushing and trying to drag my body away from him… but he was just so strong. It felt like an eternity, but I knew, even then, that it had only been a matter of seconds, and I was pinned. He was kneeling, straddling me, his calves over my thighs, restricting movement. He'd lifted me and slammed me down hard by my shoulders, my head snapping back against the ground, dark plumes blossoming in my vision briefly. I tried to keep struggling, but he didn't need to let my hands free to remove my shirt… he ripped it open down the center of my chest with one hand, the other keeping my wrists pinned above my head. _

_I wanted to throw up… or scream… I was trying to scream, but I was so disoriented from the blow to the head, and then he'd stuffed part of my shirt in my mouth. His hands on my body made my skin crawl, his teeth on my nipple so painful I thought he was surely going to bite it entirely off… but when his large, dirty hands moved down my stomach, I got all my strength back. I screamed and kicked and bucked my body to try to knock him off me, my hands twisting and shaking, trying to break his grip… but he was so strong. I got one hand free, and received a punch to the face—I saw stars in my vision, and before I even got my bearings back, he had my jeans open, and his hand was attempting to drag them down. No… not attempting, I realized, as he lifted my hips forcefully and my suddenly-cold thighs fell back onto the grass. _

_I couldn't believe it. …I was always so careful, so wary… and I was going to be raped, on campus, by a complete stranger… no matter how hard I fought it. I struggled as well as I could, but I felt overwhelmingly disoriented and my muscles were weak. I was crying and sobbing and then I was choking on the piece of cloth he'd put in my mouth. He tugged it out impatiently when he realized, after I'd struggled for breath around it for several seconds, and I took the air in a desperate rush. And then I screamed like I had never, ever screamed before. _

_I was punched again, but it didn't matter… because within seconds the sound of someone running entered my awareness and then I felt something collide with my assailant and he tumbled off of me. I gasped and struggled to sit up, my head spinning, and it took me several long moments of staring at the mass of arms and legs before I realized that Jace had arrived… and he was pummeling the guy. I looked down at myself, realizing that my underwear had been ripped from my body, probably while I was choking. With shaking hands, I dragged my jeans up over my hips and pulled the sides of my shirt over my exposed breasts. _

_"Jace…"_

_He stopped, turning to look at me, the rage in his eyes clear… he probably would not have stopped until the guy was unconscious if I hadn't intervened. And then my attacker had scrambled out from under him, taking off at a run, and Jace hesitated, glancing between me and him… and finally turning away from his retreating form, coming to me and wiping tears I wasn't aware were still falling from my cheeks. I winced in pain and his voice broke. "Oh, Sara… I'm so sorry, honey. I can't believe… traffic was awful because there's a frat party down the street… I would have been here sooner… I tried… God, tell me he didn't… tell me you're okay honey…" He was crying too, I realized, and without warning he pulled me tight to his chest, apparently needing the reassurance that I was there and safe as much as I did. _

_I don't remember walking back to his car, or him setting me gently into the passenger seat, or the drive to my home, except for his vehement statement of, "You're getting a new car, Sara. You can't wait any longer." No, I numbly agreed, I couldn't. I don't remember being led inside, or him taking my keys from my hand, or him leading me to my couch. I remember hearing him in my kitchen, and then in my bathroom. I remember him sitting on the coffee table in front of me, wiping my face gently with a warm, wet washcloth. I remember his gentle hands moving through my hair and his soft intake of breath when he encountered the lump on the back of my head. I remember him putting a homemade icepack on the back of the couch and gently leaning me back until my head rested on it, and placing a second in my hand to hold over my face… I'd taken at least three blows to the face, if I was remembering clearly. _

_I remember the gentle, absolutely caring and respectful way he parted the sides of my shirt, and the pain in his voice when he'd asked me if he could move my bra… there was blood on it, and he wanted to make sure I was okay. I nodded numbly, just trying not to think about it, and drew in a sharp breath when he tried to pull the fabric from my body. He stopped, hesitating, and then gently reached around behind me, unclasping the item and pulling down just the one side with more ease… though I still gasped at the pain of the lace pulling away from where his teeth had broken my skin. I felt the washcloth again, and chanced a glance away from my ceiling, back at him. He looked… so angry. And disgusted. …Like he couldn't even wrap his head around how upset he was. _

_"You saved me." I murmured softly. _

_His swallow was the only sound in the room, and then, "I was almost too late. …I should have just walked, but I didn't want to carry my tools. …How fucking lazy is that?" He shouted, and I flinched, and then he was softly whispering his apologies, the grief and guilt evident in his voice. I shook my head, reaching my arm out until my hand came in contact with his cheek. _

_"It isn't your fault. …You saved me." I repeated, and I wiped at the tears on his face. _

_He stood up quickly and moved away from me, returning a moment later with the first aid kit from the bathroom. He put gauze and tape over my breast and then sighed, heavily. "…Can I get you something… to change into?"_

_"My…pajamas… second drawer of my dresser." He nodded and stood, moving around the couch to head towards my bedroom. With a wave of shame, I remembered… "And… a pair of underwear. …Please."_

_He paused, his heavy breathing filling the room, and then I heard him go back into the bedroom. When he came back, he was a little more in control. He took the ice pack from me and helped me to stand, sliding the shirt and bra from my shoulders and averting his eyes entirely, even the gentleman. He passed me the long sleeved shirt and helped me guide it over my head without upsetting any of my wounds, and then turned away again until I had pulled it down my body. He handed me my underwear, turning away again, but when I stumbled and almost fell trying to step out of my jeans, he turned and caught me, sitting me down and gently removing the garments. He took the simple, modest cotton underwear onto my ankles and then looked decidedly away while he helped me stand and steadied me as I pulled them up. _

_He held me steady while I pulled on the pants, and then eased me back onto the couch, my head back on the ice pack. He disappeared again and I trembled, wondering where he'd gone… and when he returned with a mug of coffee. A sip told me it contained something stronger, but I welcomed it… it was just enough to clear my senses, not dull them. I sat up and looked at him._

_"…Do you want to go to the hospital? I… I really think you should report this."_

_I blinked, and then shook my head. "No. I… there… there's nothing they can do. He didn't… do anything… so there's no DNA or… hairs." I swallowed hard, focusing on my minimal forensics knowledge. "It wouldn't… help anything."_

_He pursed his lips, and I could tell he wanted to argue… but he also didn't want to do anything to upset me. After a long moment, he sighed. "Let's get you to bed, honey…"_

_I nodded, leaving the coffee on the table and standing on shaky legs… my hands were shaking too, I realized a moment later, and I tried to steady them. I grit my teeth, trying to disguise how upset I was… how close he'd come to… he guided me to my bed, tucked me into the covers, and wished me goodnight… and then went to leave. Which baffled me. I mean, I guess I hadn't necessarily expected him to stay… at least my mind hadn't gotten there yet… but I absolutely didn't want him to leave. _

_"Stay. …Please?" I didn't like the tremor in my voice, and he clearly didn't either. He shook his head. _

_"I'll just be out on the couch, okay? I promise, I'm not leaving you alone…"_

_"No." I said, disliking the fright in my breast or the tears in my eyes. I hadn't been afraid to sleep alone since I was very little… a few months in foster care toughens you up. But I was absolutely terrified for him to leave this room. "Stay… here." At his skeptical expression, I swallowed and clenched my fists, willing my hands to just stop shaking. "Please."_

_He reluctantly nodded, saying he'd be right back. I listened as he double checked the lock on the door, stopped in the bathroom, filled a glass of water in the kitchen, and then turned out my lights from doorway all the way back to bedroom, before slipping into the open side of the bed. _

"Jace's father would like to say a few words..." I glanced up in surprise, not realizing how long I'd been out of it… tears were in my eyes, and I blinked them back, watching Tom stand and slip past me to go up to the pulpit. This part, I wanted to hear.


	93. Chapter 93

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! They mean the world to me! Sooo...

Kathy, If tissues will be necessary, this is the chapter. Although, I'm not entirely sure they will be... I mean, I got emotional writing it, but I always cry at weddings and funerals... always. So... :)

JBCC and GSRMania, you two always always make me laugh. :) Thank you.

Hope you all enjoy! Goodnight!

* * *

Chapter Ninety Three:

"My son, Jace…"

The strong, broad-shouldered, stoic man stopped, only the slightest of trembles evident in his expression… and then he swallowed, and continued in a clearer voice, deep and unwavering.

"My son, Jace could be described in a lot of ways. He was a loyal, if sometimes imperfect, husband and a loving and devoted father… In the wake of this tragedy, it's hard to say that any particular aspect is worse than the others but, if there is one… it's that little Ayla will never get to know firsthand what a wonderful father he was. If I was half the father to my children throughout their entire lives as Jace was to his daughter in the short eleven months he had with her, I will consider myself a success."

He paused, breathing deeply, though this was the only sign that he might be feeling emotional.

"At other times in Jace's life, he's been many other things. As a baby, he was a late bloomer, not even starting to walk until he was more than eighteen months… as a child, he wore his heart on his sleeve, frequently complaining that his three headstrong older sisters weren't being _nice_ enough or _fair_ enough… in his teens, he became an independent and confident young man, almost overnight. …I remember wondering, around his seventeenth birthday, when my little boy had become a. man…"

Another deep breath. "Jace was a fighter, unwilling to accept anything but the best from himself. He put himself through school, he made a life with a beautiful woman he loved very much, and he excelled at just about anything he sincerely put his mind to, not because it always came easily to him, but because he was so determined. …Although I distinctly remember each phase of his life, and who he was in each place and time, there are some things about Jace which have remained constant, for as long as I've known him.

"…My son was a man who was willing to make sacrifices and to defend and protect who and what he loved. He shared his toys at an age when no other child was sharing… and his sisters hadn't really grasped the concept yet themselves." There was slight laughter in the church, and I wiped at my streaming face, glancing at Gil. He looked at me from the side of his eyes and without a word, we reached out to each other, clasping hands across Ayla's lap where she sat, blanket in her lap, thumb in her mouth. Had Gil given her the blanket? I hadn't even noticed…

"…I remember the first time he came home crying… he was eight and had gone to the park with his sisters, and when an older boy had tried to take his youngest sister Ali's doll, he'd stood up to the kid and gotten himself a bloody nose. …Those of you who knew Jace in high school know that he was a little rebellious at times, and got into a few fights. At the time, his mother and I were furious… though in later years we learned what the fights had been about. Each and every time, he was defending someone or something… his sisters, his friends, a classmate who wasn't as popular, or simply some vague principle at large which he felt in his heart was worth fighting for. As he got older, he learned to fight with his head instead of his fists… though he never stopped being that person who was so good, to his very core, that thought for himself was absolutely secondary."

This time, Tom's face crumpled and he inhaled sharply, fighting for control. ".My son died to save his little girl… selflessly, courageously, lovingly, threw himself over her body to protect her from a madman… My son was not a perfect man, but he was the picture of self-sacrifice. …My son was a hero." His hands flexed on the sides of pulpit, gripping them in a desperate attempt at remaining stoic, and he let out the breath shakily. "And if there is nothing else that Ayla knows about him, or that anyone remembers about him, it should be that. His entire live, he was giving and loving and forgiving to an extent that I have rarely seen my whole life long… and I cannot begin to tell you how… how much… we love him. How much we'll… miss him."

His entire immovable expression faltered for a single moment in time, displaying the deepest level of grief I had ever witnessed, and then the strong jaw had lifted and his face was returned to normal, save for a few rapid blinks as he stepped down and slid back into the pew beside me that revealed he was quickly losing composure. I reached my free hand to him immediately, and he took it, squeezing it tightly, as if he needed my comfort as much or more than I needed his. I dropped Gil's hand to embrace the man, and though he was silent and no more tears fell from his eyes, the sob that shook his body when he held me spoke volumes.

I don't remember the rest of the funeral, but I remember following the casket out and catching Rachel's eyes—she was sitting in the back row, her eyes and cheeks red and streaked with tears, and I felt nothing… no desire to rekindle the friendship—the betrayal of my trust had been too severe—but no lingering animosity either. If Jace had forgiven Gil and I… I could forgive Rachel an act that she had surely done in an attempt to protect me from myself. It was misguided, but I just didn't have the strength to be angry or hateful anymore. I offered a small, hesitant smile, and she gave me one back… and then we were past her, leaving the sanctuary.

We didn't watch the coffin as it was loaded into the hearse. It was just too much for me. I turned away, pulling Ayla from Gil's arms and squeezing her tightly, drawing strength from her. Gil drove, pulling up behind the hearse, and turned his flashers on while we waited for the procession to pull up. I leaned my head against the window, staring blankly ahead, that night flickering back to me in detail.

_I shivered, feeling freezing despite my warm pajamas and the blankets on top of me. I knew that I wasn't thinking clearly, but I wanted to be close to him. Not even sexually, really, just… close. I was nervous and uncertain, but those things didn't necessarily loom large enough in my mind to act as deterrents. I rolled over, wincing at the pressure on my bandaged breast, and curled up to his side, my shoulder tucked under his arm and my head on his chest, arm across his stomach and leg curled over his. He stiffened, tilting his head, and slowly lowered an arm from behind his head to rest against my back. _

_"…Sara?" He asked gently, perhaps seeing if I were still awake… perhaps more openly questioning my actions. I swallowed. _

_"I'm so… cold. I just… I need to feel… close."_

_I could hear the uncertainty in his silence, but after a long moment his body relaxed a little more and the arm around me tightened just slightly. "Okay."_

_The problem, of course, was me. I don't even think it was sexual, per se… not in a blatant way, although I was aware of what I was doing. I just wanted to feel human contact in a way that wasn't threatening… I ran the hand that had been draped across his abdomen over his stomach and down further than I should have, though not so low as to be obvious… and eventually slipped my palm beneath his t-shirt, running over the muscles there I had wondered about since the first day I saw him. _

_"…Sara?" This time his voice was a little shaky, but it held a tone of accusation. I swallowed again, ignoring him, tracing fingertips up his sides and relishing in the goose bumps I caused… relishing in warm flesh that was not demanding, but was always gentle. I hitched my leg up just a little higher, and became aware of the effect I was having on him. He swallowed hard, and his voice came more sternly. "Sara. What are you doing?"_

_I felt tears spark my eyes at what felt like a rejection and grit my teeth. "You want it too, I can feel it." I insisted, finally realizing that this had been exactly where I was going with this. …I didn't necessarily want sex… I mean, not for sex's sake, anyway. I wanted someone warm and gentle and giving to replace the images that kept replaying in my head. I wanted to be loved in a way that I could control—hell, had initiated—by someone who would never force anything on me… I wanted to exhaust myself so that I could sleep without dreaming of it, because I knew that it would happen, otherwise. _

_"Sara." He said, gently now, catching my wandering hand in his free one and bringing it back up to his chest, over his shirt. "Honey, you're upset because of what happened and you're not thinking clearly, okay? Just sleep, please?"_

_The tears came over me in a wave again and I bit them back. "I don't want to sleep. …I want you to make me forget him…t-touching me…" I shivered again, sure that I must have hypothermia to be this cold, and felt the tears gain some ground. _

_His arms came around me, tightly but gently crushing me against his chest, holding me close and safe. "I know, honey, but this isn't the way to do it. You'd regret it in the morning…"_

_"No," I insisted, shaking my head and tugging my hand free from his, snaking it back onto his stomach, under his shirt. "I won't regret it. I'll be thankful." My whole body shuddered with the cold this time, and I just wanted him to keep me warm. I let my hand skate down to the top of his jeans. He took it in his larger hand again, pulling it away. _

_"Sara… listen to me." And when I shook my head, he tilted my face up to his, meeting my eyes. "No, listen… You think you want this, and short-term it might feel like it helps… but long-term, it's only going to make this worse to deal with."_

_"You want it too." I whispered, the tears coming unhindered now, and he swallowed hard. _

_"No, Sara. My body is reacting to you touching me because you're a beautiful woman whom I've been attracted to since I met you… but I don't want to do this right now. …I want to do it when you're thinking clearly and you know what you're doing… when it's about me and you and us… not about hiding from what he did to you."_

_The shudder that slid through me felt like a convulsion this time and I choked on a sob. He sat up, grabbing the extra blanket that was still folded gently across the bottom of my bed. With gentle care, he wrapped it around me and had me straddle him, high enough up his body that I couldn't feel what I had done to him, and bent me forward until my head was on a pillow beside his, just above his shoulder. Then he pulled the big comforter over the both of us, holding it tight around me. "Jace…" I said, my voice pleading, and I saw the hurt in his eyes._

_His large hands cupped my face, and the shiver that had been building died down. With the extra blanket around my back and shoulders and his warmth seeping up through my chest, I didn't feel quite as cold. "I promise you, Sara Sidle, that if you still want to do this in a few weeks… I will be a more than willing participant. Okay? But tonight, just sleep with me, okay?"_

_I nodded numbly, not wanting to agree, but realizing a loss when I saw one. I buried my face between the pillow and his neck, tucked my cold toes under his warm thighs, and closed my eyes. And when I felt his hands slip beneath the covers to run over my back and shoulders and sides, over my shirt, but still gently replacing my attacker's cruel contact and my skin's memory of it with warmth and comfort and compassion… my whole body relaxed against him. I don't remember falling asleep, but I do remember that I didn't have any nightmares that night…_

"Sara? Honey, we're here…" I looked up in surprise, realizing the car had been parked, and we needed to get out of the car and approach the hole in the ground into which they would lay the man who had been my best friend and constant protector, even if occasionally he was misguided in his attempts. In all the years I'd known him, he'd been that man far more often and more consistently than he'd been the man I'd seen as prison warden. I slipped from the vehicle and walked between Gil on my left and Tom, holding Ayla, on my right, with a kind of numb disbelief.

He was gone. Really and truly gone. Not just my husband, but Jace… my Jace. My personal savior and consummate partner.

I felt dizzy just seeing the hole where I knew he would be placed… felt my mind going through the stages of decomposition with a twisted attention to detail… so when I was offered a chair, I nodded and slumped into it, feeling altogether weak of mind, body, and spirit. He was gone.


	94. Chapter 94

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: :) Sorry for the delay-I meant to have this up yesterday night or at least this afternoon, but life got in the way. Still, hope this pleases. I feel like I just want to get past all this stuff, but it's so important that I can't just skip over it. Hopefully, after this chapter, we can move forward again.

Also, the fiance and I spent most of the night arguing about wedding songs, again, and I finally said I would ask for help from the masses. Sooo, if anyone has suggestions for first dance songs as well as songs to be sung during the actual ceremony, I would be so very grateful to hear them. We kind of like the idea of older songs because they've withstood the test of time, but we also don't want really cliched ones that have been overdone. Thank you so much... we're really hoping that one of you has a song that just blows us away and we don't have to spend the next how long agonizing over it. :)

If you don't want to help, I promise it won't hurt my feelings. Feel free to disregard all of that. :)

Enjoy!

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Chapter Ninety Four:

Sara held a deep aversion to even approaching the place where Jace was to be buried. The only thing she even said about it was that she couldn't imagine being buried in the ground forever… couldn't imagine how hard it would be to breathe. I made a mental note to ask about her end-of-life preferences at a more opportune time… and then I approached Jace's coffin myself. Everyone had gone to Jace's eldest sister's home for the reception afterwards… but Sara had sat unmoving, and a glance at Tom had told me that he wasn't ready to leave either. Sara just stared at the hole, clutching Ayla tightly to her while she sat in the little chair. There was a small overhang to keep out the rain that had stopped just before the funeral, but the ground was wet and we were surrounded by the smells of wet earth and wet greenery and wet flowers.

But I… I needed a moment with Jace too. Because despite the inherent conflict of our situations, he was a man I had come to respect…and to feel sorry for… A man who had made his dying request of me. Not of his wife or his parents or his tiny daughter, but of me… something like that bonds you to a person in a soul-deep kind of way. When I turned around, Tom and Sara looked like they were ready to leave… and with Ayla in tow, the three of us walked away from the grave site, the last mourners to drag ourselves away.

It started raining on the way back, and by the time we got back inside Jace's eldest sister's home it was pouring, lightning streaking across the sky and thunder booming threateningly around us. I tucked Sara and Ayla under the umbrella as we moved inside, and spend what felt like hours on end talking to people we didn't know. Or, I didn't know. Sara knew some of them. It might have been easier for her if I wasn't seated beside her, holding Ayla, while people hugged her and said they were so sorry about the death of her husband, their eyes skating past her to me in a question. Sara would introduce me as a friend of the family, and I would explain that I was a CSI and had been called to Boston to help find Ayla and had stayed to help Sara after Jace's death… and it seemed to appease most of them.

It was when the house was cleared and we were all moving around, cleaning up, that problems were started again. Susan had been drinking quite a bit during the entire reception, so I had been expecting something, though I was grateful when the last non-family member left before anything did happen… but it surprised me by not coming from my former lover, but from her children.

Sara was in the kitchen, helping to wash dishes with Jace's younger sister, and though I had asked several people several times if I could help, they politely refused, leaving me to sit with Ayla while she slept. But I could hear the women in the kitchen talking. "…said Dad's eulogy was beautiful. I have to remember to tell him."

"It really was…" their voices lowered, and I glanced over at Tom, who had fallen asleep in his armchair, newspaper still held in his hands. "Have you ever seen him upset like that?"

"No… that was almost as bad as losing Jace… seeing Dad so hurt by it."

"Well, and considering…" the voice faltered, as if it just realized that someone was nearby who shouldn't hear her words. I lifted my head, wondering if the end of that sentence had been geared at Sara and I… the long silence that followed had my heart pounding in my ears, and then I heard Sara's voice, low and defensive.

"Considering… what, exactly?"

If I had to guess, it had been the middle sister who spoke the offensive words, admittedly without realizing Sara was right there. But it was definitely the eldest sister, the one who reminded me the most strongly of their mother, who spoke up, meeting Sara head on.

"Considering that his son's wife attended his funeral with her lover in tow. You would think his youngest child dying would be enough for one man to have to deal with."

Susan, in the dining room, let out a drunken chuckle. I stood, not sure what I was going to do but knowing that I wasn't going to let Sara face them all alone. I laid Ayla on the couch.

"Tom wasn't offended that Gil was here. He knows who Jace was and he understands the position I—"

"Oh, the position _you_ were in, huh? You mean the position where you stayed married to the man with the money, fucked the man who clearly has no qualms about sleeping with married women, and then stopped working after you had a beautiful little girl you didn't deserve, because your life was just so damn depressing, wasn't it? Had to be hard, taking everything he had to give and knowing he loved you anyway…"

There was another long moment, and I moved into the dining room, alarmed, just in time to hear the sound of someone—the eldest sister by the sound of the shriek—being slapped across the face. "Fuck you. You know nothing about me, or my life, or apparently, your own brother." Sara snarled.

Susan turned her gaze on me and smiled lasciviously. "Oh, hello Gilbert… enjoying the entertainment?" She chuckled again and drank deeply from her glass. "I know you're anxious to run in there and play the hero… but I think Sara can handle herself." She stood up, a little unsteady, and moved between the door and me, stepping closer.

"I know that it seems awfully coincidental… you don't want Jace anymore, and he dies… your mother didn't want your father, so she killed him."

Sara's gasp was bleak—full of shock and pain—and I tried to move around Susan, but she blocked me, stepping closer still.

"How… how did you… did Jace…"

The eldest sister's voice was simultaneously dismissive and vicious. "No, Jace never said anything against his precious little Sara… But it wasn't exactly hard. You don't have parents, you grew up in foster care in San Francisco, and your last name is Sidle… like it was hard to find you in a newspaper. 'Local woman stabs husband sixteen times'."

Sara gasped again, and this time I tried to push past Susan, going so far as to put my hands on her shoulders to move her. She stumbled drunkenly, falling forward against me instead of to the side, and then I felt her hand… on me. I froze and then tried to step backwards but she moved with me. "Let go." I hissed, extremely uncomfortable with this whole twisted situation and my manhood's apparent role in it.

Sara's voice came from the kitchen, and the tears in it were clear. "…I didn't want Jace to die. And my mother… my father… you don't know…"

"You know, I don't really think you want me to, Gilbert… they're busy fighting, and I'm sure I can find a ruler somewhere in this house…"

I shuddered away from her, backing up until I hit the wall, having nowhere else to go…and when her hands started stroking, my eyes widened in horror. I was getting hard… and it was absolutely not because I wanted her. The scientist in me had studied this particular thing more than once since we'd gone our separate ways so many years ago, so I logically knew that it was actually fairly common for male sexual assault victims to get erections, simply because the body responds to stimulus more than willpower. Emotionally, however, I was once again reduced to a young boy who didn't understand what she was doing to me or why my body would react this way if I didn't want it.

I heard a sob from the kitchen, and a snort from the older girl, and I straightened up, still trembling but unwilling to shirk away from her like she still had power that felt limitless over me. I met her eyes, reached down and took her wrist and pressed my thumb against it until her fingers released me. I twisted them away and grit my teeth. "Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." I said, in what felt like a heated whisper… but the surprise in her eyes as well as the lingering silence from the kitchen told me that maybe I'd spoken louder than I meant to.

Sara was first, scrambling to open the pocket doors that separated them from us and catapulting herself into the room. A glance between us told her all she needed to know. "You fucking whore! Get your disgusting, manipulative, controlling claws off of him!"

Susan took a step back, but the eldest sister—her cheek very red—stepped forward. "Whore? Really? Who on earth are you to talk, bringing your fuck buddy to your husband's funeral?"

Sara turned and pushed the woman, bringing a gasps from her sisters as she flew backwards into the wall. "I'm the woman who asked my husband for a divorce and was threatened and refused, but who never lied to him from that point on about where my affection lay. Your mother is a drunken cougar who gets off on abusing anyone she can, even if it means groping a former victim while her husband is in the other room."

Sara turned on her heel, facing Susan, who stumbled back, clearly intimidated and drunk. Sara stepped right up to her, narrowing her gaze. "And you… You are absolutely a pathetic excuse for a person and you are not worthy of the love Tom feels for you or Jace felt for you. In Jace's weakest, most regretted moments, he was very like you… but the majority of the time he was his father's son. Every person today who said he was a good person, said that because he was nothing like you most of the time. You disgust me. …If there is a single person in this room who could know who you really are and not be repulsed by you, they are as sick and twisted as you are. Even Tom can't stand to acknowledge what you are."

She looked up and stopped, her eyes locked on the door to the living room. Tom was standing in the open area, holding a sleeping Ayla, his eyes sad… but offering no judgment. Tears sprung to her eyes and she hurried over, taking Ayla and then hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry." She whispered, kissing his cheek, and then came back to me and took my hand. Everyone watched us in silence and she lifted her chin. "For the record, my father beat my mother within an inch of her life more than sixteen times… without even considering how many times he hurt me or my brother, I'd say she still owes him a few. …We're leaving."

She tugged me gently and together we walked out of the house, stopping only to pick up her purse and Ayla's diaper bag and slip into our shoes. We left the umbrella by mistake and got drenched before we got to the car, but there was an odd sense of relief as we slammed the doors behind us and pulled away from the awful house. Sara suggested trying to get a flight out of town tonight, but in the end we decided Ayla needed a good night's sleep. We drove back to the hotel, changed Ayla and tucked her in, and then together moved into the bathroom, leaving the lights off. We stripped out of our cold, wet clothing and into a hot shower, holding each other under the spray for the second time today. She cried and I held her, my hands gentle on her back, and continued to rock her gently long after she'd calmed.

We turned the heat up, thankful for the hotel's large water heaters, and then she put her hands on my face. "Gil, baby… tell me what she did to you." I blanched, sputtering and shaking my head. She knew enough to understand… did she really need to know more than that? The horrible, shameful details that made up the greatest regrets of my life? I shook my head more fervently, but she didn't argue with me or try to convince me… she just kept her eyes locked on mine.

They were barely visible in the darkness, but they communicated a depth of love and trust and compassion that left me feeling weak all over… I trembled, and her arms tightened around me, but her eyes didn't waver. …And then I was crying—sobbing like a fucking five year old—telling her everything that I had never, ever been able to tell another person, my whole life long. I was telling her the horrid details that made my face burn and my heart pound and my mind race. …How could she love a man who had allowed himself to be so degraded by such a tiny little woman?

She cried too, but her eyes never changed. She choked out words of hate and disgust for Susan, but her touches stayed gentle, his kisses loving, and she held me like a man she loved, not like an infant she had to protect. She made me feel like I was still a man in her eyes, even now that she knew…

We stayed in for as long as we could handle it, turning the heat up several more times… and when we stepped out, it was without the baggage we'd had when we stepped inside. As far as I was concerned, Tom could visit Ayla any time he wanted to, but I was done with the rest of Jace's family. We curled up in bed around Ayla, somehow managing to intertwine our bodies with her between us, and reassured ourselves that at the very least, we would be leaving all of this behind us soon.


	95. Chapter 95

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Once again, a little short, but it's another transitionary chapter. Thanks for all the reviews and the suggestions! Hope you enjoy. :)

* * *

Chapter Ninety Five:

It was an absolute relief to fly back to Vegas the next day. Ayla didn't sleep through this flight, but Gil had had the foresight to bring a travel size box of cheerios from the breakfast offered at our hotel, and she spent most of her time chasing them around her tray table, still not having the fine motor capabilities to grasp them between thumb and forefinger. We spent another night in Vegas and though Gil seemed content to spend the night at home, watching television or catching a movie on HBO, I reminded him that he had abruptly quit his job before the funeral… and that if I knew Catherine Willows, she would want an explanation.

Which was how we ended up in a restaurant, in a casino on the strip, with a table full of people I didn't know… and Catherine.

We had waited just outside the restaurant, surrounded by the constant pinging of slot machines, Ayla on my hip… and she and Lindsey had been the first to arrive. Their arrival had been announced by a loud "Uncle Giiiiil!" and a blonde streak colliding with his legs before he swooped her up in the air, hugging and tickling the little girl until she shrieked. Catherine appeared a moment later, huffing and blowing her exasperated breath upwards, moving the bangs away from her face. "Sorry Gil, she saw you and took off…" She turned to me, a look of discomfort slipping across her features. "Sara, I…"

"Don't worry about it." I said, quick to dismiss her apology. "If I'd done what you thought I did… you would have had every right to—"

"Grissom, man, the whole lab is talking about how you gave Ecklie the smack down!" We all turn to see a rather eccentric young man hurry over, light brown hair with obviously-dyed blonde spikes looking like they could poke someone's eye out, the sides of his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt trailing on either side of his t-shirt clad body. I instantly liked him, and watched Gil grimace in slight displeasure.

"There was no smacking of anyone, Greg." He said, rather more sternly than the situation warranted, I thought, and then sighed and offered the young man a smile. "Greg Sanders, DNA tech extraordinaire, meet Sara Sidle, my fiancée."

I smiled and reached out to shake his hand, but he pulled me into a bear hug instead. "Nice to meet you. Everyone's been talking about who Grissom walked out with, after… you know. They didn't say she was a MILF though."

I blushed, turning to Gil for help, but he looked utterly bewildered as to what his young DNA genius had just said to me. Still, taking in Catherine's smirk and my shocked expression, he was able to figure out enough to say, "Greg…" warningly with a threatening eyebrow raise. The young man just grinned and turned to Ayla.

"Hi cutie pie. What's your name?"

Ayla stretched out, attempting to touch his crazy hair, and we all laughed while I told her name and another joined our group. "Hey guys." A tall man who had a sort of inherent grace and gentleness beneath a young, tough exterior entered, and I immediately liked him as well. He shook Grissom's hand, nodded to Catherine, and then turned to me. "Sara? Nice to meet you. Catherine didn't tell me how pretty you'd be… must have been jealous." He winked at me as we shook hands and we both smirked at Catherine's indignant hair toss.

Gil stepped in, though I didn't need the introduction—Warrick Brown, Gil's protégée. "Warrick, Sara…" I grinned, about to tell him that that much had been clear, when another approached—

"Move along fellas, nothing to see here…" A short, gruff man with a dramatic receding hair line approached, his tough exterior hinting at a sweet, soft center. He leveled me with a stern gaze. "So you're the one who's been distracting my star CSI for years, huh?" We leaned forward, hugging Ayla and I with one arm, gently.

"Jim Brass." I said, knowingly. "I'm Sara Sidle." He grinned.

"I didn't know the name—until today, that is—but I've known about you for… probably longer than Catherine. 1998 Forensic Anthropology Conference, San Francisco. He's been a different man ever since."

I blushed and Gil looked a little embarrassed at the man's words as well as he shook Jim's hand and they shared a few quite words about Jim's transfer to homicide and Gil's impromptu retirement. Catherine cleared her throat. "Nicky said he might be a little late, so if we wanted to go in and sit…"

"No! I'm here! I made it!" The young man in a cowboy hat said, hurrying into the group. He grinned at me. "Howdy ma'am." He took my hand and kissed it, and I blinked in surprise. Gil moved over, chuckling at my bemusement.

"Sara Sidle, meet Nick Stokes, southern gentleman and ladies man."

We both grinned at each other and then, en masse, the group moved to the table the hostess had been waiting to seat us at since Gil and I arrived. I realized that there was not a single person in the group whom I disliked… No, not even disliked. There was not one whom I did not feel an immediate connection to. …Maybe we should stay in Vegas. We could both try to get jobs at UNLV… Gil said he had money to tide us over for a while.

The meal was delicious, the company amazing, and by the time everyone had to leave to get to the lab for their shift—they made sure to send a few barbs Gil's way about being a quitter—I felt like Gil had this lab family I'd never known about. I mean, sure he'd mentioned all of them… but it had never occurred to me how much I might love them myself. How close knit they seemed. They all hugged me before they left, and then Gil and I were walking out of the restaurant, Ayla on his hip, hand in hand. "To Boston?" I asked, less as a question and more as a way to bring up our immediate plans, together. He smiled.

"To Boston."

It was another long day of flying, and Ayla had apparently reached her limit. She was fussy and whiny and often inconsolable, and I found myself suddenly sympathizing with people who hated babies on planes. I gave in, half way through the first plane ride, and had Gil drag me out a blanket so I could nurse. It worked, for at least twenty minutes, and then she began again. The second plane ride was worse… she didn't want to nurse and said "No!" to me when I tried to coax her to latch onto my breast, just to calm and quiet her down. I blinked in surprise, and Gil gently pulled her from me, taking over trying to keep her happy.

She fell asleep just before the captain said we were landing, and I groaned, certain she would wake up in all the hustle and bustle and be a monster for the rest of the day. Gil kissed my temple and gave me a sympathetic smile. When we landed, we let everyone leave ahead of us and he had me carry her so he could juggle all the luggage and keep her sleeping.

The next few weeks were really a blur. We packed up everything, giving most of Jace's clothing to goodwill, though I saved his favorite sweatshirt, thinking that Ayla could sleep with it until it got worn out… it might help her. We sold furniture we didn't need or have room for, we cleaned the house, we put it on the market, paid off all Jace and I's bills and debts, and sent everything else to a storage facility in Vegas.

And then, instead of heading back to Vegas and Gil's truly creepy townhouse, he surprised me with tickets to Paris for the three of us… a wedding and honeymoon, combined, if I still wanted it, he said.

Of course I still wanted it.

Enough time had passed, apparently, that Ayla was not so opposed to plane trips, and she thankfully was back to her usual sweet self on the long, long ride. We landed in Paris, and everywhere we passed between the airport and the hotel, I asked if that was where he'd planned for us to get married. He would grin and shake his head, and my eyes would flash out the window again at the City of Lights, trying to place it. I knew, of course, that he had told me it wasn't in the actual city… but I was so excited and nervous and impatient…

I didn't have a dress, or anything old, new, borrowed, or blue… but if he had asked me to marry him in the lobby of our hotel, that would have been enough.

He had had the foresight to bring the pack and play with us this time, so we wouldn't have to share a bed with Ayla… I felt heat coursing down my spine at the thought of having a bed entirely to ourselves, without the guilt of knowing Ayla was closed in the bathroom I had once suspected would be covered in insects large enough to eat her. He took me out to eat at a restaurant our front desk clerk had suggested, and I was overwhelmed with the food… I had never eaten food so amazing. And when we came back to the hotel, me just a little tipsy off the delicious wine and on my absolute disbelief that we were really here, together, I suggested he put Ayla down out in the living room… and slipped into our bedroom to change into something I had purchased with the whole honeymoon-wedding-in-France concept in mind…

I mean, it wasn't as if we hadn't made love since Jace died. Of course we had. Several times in the weeks following his funeral, while tying up loose ends in Boston. …But we were busy and stressed and juggling a lot and though we were overwhelmingly happy to be together… all of that had kind of gotten in the way. It had been passionate and intimate… but not the mind-blowing kind of sex I had always, always associated with him, whether I was in denial of our relationship, finally giving in, or nine months pregnant. But tonight… tonight was just for us, after weeks of being caught up in everything for everyone else.

The last thing on earth I expected was for him to laugh at me when he slipped into the bedroom and caught sight of me.


	96. Chapter 96

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Smut, smut, smut. :) As requested and, with all the angst, probably needed at this point.

CSIfan3804, I meant to say this in my last A/N, but I was dumb and forgot: Welcome back! I missed you! :) (And believed you'd stopped reading as well... this story has seriously hurt my confidence a little.)

Everyone enjoy! I'm going to bed early! Night!

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Chapter Ninety Six:

I love Sara. I do. I find her to be an exceptionally engaging woman with a challenging intellect, a unique mind, a beautiful face, and a decidedly sexy body… But when I walked into a room to see her clad in lingerie very clearly resembling a French maid's uniform… I couldn't help but laugh. It was because I love her that I laughed—only Sara would intentionally seek out themed, see-through ensembles to go along with our particular geographic location.

It was so delightedly neurotic and so perfectly Sara… I couldn't help it. It amused me as much as it turned me on. …Which is not to say that it didn't turn me on. I mean, Sara doesn't have to do much to make me want her in a way I would otherwise believe I was far too old for… but my primary emotion was amusement at how sweet and endearing her cute little quirks are.

It took me a moment too long to realize she was frowning deeply, her arms across her chest—in anger, but perhaps also to obscure the creamy skin exposed there, shielding her from what she clearly thought was my mocking. I stopped laughing, shaking my head. "Oh honey, don't be upset…"

"I'm not." She said, in a voice that said she really, really was. She turned away from me, not realizing that the back was, if anything, more revealing than the front. "I, uh… I'm gonna go wash my face for bed…" She took a step to the bathroom, but I tugged her back, pulling her gently against me.

"Hey…" I tilted her head up, and the frown in her eyebrows deepened just a little. "I promise, I wasn't laughing because I didn't think you were sexy, honey. …Honestly, you always look beautiful and right now, you look good enough to eat…" I said, attempting to deepen my voice seductively and still sound gentle and apologetic. The flicker of a smirk on her face told me I was forgiven, even if she wasn't ready to play nice yet.

"Well, I guess you'll be going hungry tonight then, hmm?" Once again she tried to walk away from me, although the extra sway in her hips and the grin she was fighting back told me she didn't want to get away. I reached out and pulled her back to me by the hips instead of the arm this time, thinking that despite my immediate amusement, Sara could not have picked a sexier outfit. It was black silk on top, skimpy off-the-shoulder straps and a sweetheart neckline, but the silk stopped beneath her breasts, black lace covering her stomach and far too far down over her hips before several ruffled layers of silk formed the flouncy skirt on the bottom, which didn't quite cover her ass. The lace over her stomach didn't cover her back… it was left open to the touch, and a when I pulled her back against me, my fingers finding purchase in the silk ruffles, the heat of her skin through my shirt had a low growl building in my throat.

"No… I don't think I will." I breathed against her ear, sucking the lobe and dragging my tongue up and around the shell. "I think, by the time this night is over, I will be quite… satisfied." She shivered against me and I tugged her more firmly back against me, making sure she could feel exactly how turned on I was, in case she still had any lingering doubts. You would assume that the advice 'Don't laugh when your fiancée tries on new lingerie for you' is a no-brainer, but that particular faux-pas sneaks up on you…

I moved burning kisses over her neck, feeling like my own clothes were too stifling, but that I might keep her in this as long as possible… Her breathing was already coming in short pants, her weight slumped back against me, making me feel just a little smug at the effect I could have on her. I slowly slid my hands from her hips, up along her sides, loving the way my thumbs slid up the silky-smooth, bare skin of her back as my fingertips dragged over the rough, textured expanse of lace over her abdomen. The dual sensation had my own breath coming a little faster in my chest as I stopped just beneath her breasts, lingering…

"Mnnn…" she moaned softly, a desperate sound, and her back arched, trying to tempt me upward to touch her. I nipped gently at the curve between her neck and shoulder, breathing hot and heavy over her skin and watching the goose bumps appear as she squirmed under me.

"So… what was your plan, once you got me all hot and bothered with this sexy little ensemble?"

She shuddered, her hips rocking back against me impatiently and her half-exposed, tight little ass rubbing against me through my pants. "…I was going to seduce you." She huffed out, breathless, and I chuckled.

"Oh, you were, now? …And see, right now… I think I'm doing all the seducing…" I slid my hands up to softly caress the breasts her arching back was offering to me, thumbs passing over the nipples playfully as she gasped out her surprise and appreciation for the move, the hands at her sides finally snaking up to move around over her shoulders, pulling me closer and twining her fingers into my hair, holding my head close beside hers.

"Go… lay down… and I…" She broke off on a moan as I gently squeezed both nipples between my thumbs and forefingers and I felt heat race through me. I often still found myself in a state of disbelief that I was able to inspire responses like this from her…

"You what, honey?"

"I… I'll… If you…" She was panting, her knees weak against me, and I slid an arm around her lithe frame, uncertain if she would let herself collapse if those knees did in fact give out. The other hand slid down from her breasts, stopping midway down the thigh and then coming back up, under the skirt this time. She drew in a trembling breath as I walked my fingers closed to her center.

"You'll what?" I slid my fingers underneath the edge of the tiny underwear she was wearing, above any sensitive areas, but she still bucked forward, aching for some relief. "…Tell me what you planned to do to seduce me, Sara." I whispered her name on a hot breathe in her ear, feeling myself twitching behind her at the agonized groan that slipped between her lips. "…Tell me what you thought about… tell me what on earth you thought you could do that would be more seductive than this tiny little outfit…?" I slipped my fingers down, just a little… I could feel how wet she was, but even when she rocked up again, I left her wanted.

"Oh, fuck, Gil… please…"

"You want me to touch you, baby?"

"Yessss…" She hissed, her fingers digging more tightly into my curls, her body starting to slowly rock forward and back, simply for the slight pressure from my fingers not-quite-in-contact. The friction of her against me was making my own breathing hard to control and I had to close my eyes and swallow hard in order to keep speaking.

"Then tell me…" I taunted, a finger slipping down to circle her erect little nub before retreating, dragging a frustrated whimper from her lips as it did.

Her body shuddered and she gasped, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to gain some semblance of control. "Gil…" I repeated the motion and she stopped again, dragging in a sharp inhale, her nails digging into my scalp now, a pleasurable pain that sent chills through me. She was so wet… so hot…

"I was going to suck you off. I was going to tease you with my tongue until you begged for mercy. Bring you close over and over, but never let you let go… until you absolutely couldn't take it anymore and threw me down to have your way with me…"

My eyes had closed and I'd gripped her tightly to me, feeling dizzy and unaware that my own hips were moving in time with hers now. …Sara had never, never talked to me like that. I felt drunk, it was so hard to open my eyes and force concentration. A needy, disbelieving groan ripped through the air, and it took me a minute to realize it had come from me, responding to her pulling herself out of my arms. Her palms came in contact with my chest and I tugged her forward, against me, into a searing kiss. Once again, I don't know that I was aware we were walking backwards until I actually hit the bed with my legs and tipped backwards onto it. She fell forward onto my chest with a squeal and a giggle, and then her hands were sliding down my body as her voice turned husky…

"You gonna let me seduce you now, baby?" She punctuated this sentence by tugging roughly on my pants button, causing it to come loose and the zipper to slide its way down on its own. I gasped and tried to tug her from her seated position down to kiss me again, but she dove down instead to where her hands were tugging my pants and underwear down my body and off, her body slipping off of mine and onto the floor until she was kneeling between my legs. I gasped and tried to sit up.

"Sara… honey…" She ran her tongue, lightning-quick, up the length of me. "Oh god!" I gasped, collapsing back against the mattress, the spasm of pleasure hitting me like a punch in the stomach. She giggled, that sneaky, devilish tongue snaking out again and I saw stars in front of my eyes. There was heat surging through me from her attentions, hot and wet, giving and taking but always, always teasing… until my entire frame was positively trembling with want. "Please… let me feel you, honey." I murmured into the pillow I'd pulled over my face in an effort quiet myself enough so that I wouldn't wake Ayla.

In an instant she was above me again, gently tugging the pillow away from my face while she hovered above me, thighs spread as she straddled me. "You're so beautiful." She said, and despite still gasping for air, I managed to raise an eyebrow at her. She smirked, tugging on my shirt until I sat up enough for her to pull it off my arms, and explained. "It's… You're a different man, when I have you like this… sweaty and hot, so worked up that you swear like a sailor on the same breaths in which you profess your love."

"…I'm a different man when I'm with you." I corrected, and slowly slid my hands up from her knees, a palm on each thigh, slipping under the skirt and grasping the top of her underwear and pulling them down in one long movement, until they got caught from her legs being spread. She slid off me, standing, and they slipped the rest of the way down to pool around her ankles. She stepped delicately—elegantly—out of them and I scooted a little further up the bed as she climbed up after me, sitting gently astride me, the slick heat of her resting deliciously against me, cradling and tempting simultaneously as her long body bends sinuously down to me, her lips sliding against mine gently.

I arch up against her automatically, my fingers tangling in her hair as her tongue peeks into my mouth and then out, still teasing. From her throaty gasp, as well as the enveloping feeling of heat, I know that the head of my manhood had slipped between her folds, almost like providence… I was never a man who believed in fate—or luck, really—before I met Sara. But with her… everything felt like it was ringing with rightness. Her eyes were heavily lidded as she panted above me and I pulled her back down into the kiss with the hands that were still in her silky curls as I arched up again.

She moaned against my lips, feeling my intentions and arching with me until I slid, ever-so-slowly, all the way into her sweet, sweet depths. I trembled again, my control wavering, my hands gripping her more tightly. She rolled her hips and I forgot why I might need control in the first place… she slid down until her chest was flush with mine, her hands moving under the pillow beneath my head and our foreheads pressed together intimately. She slowly moved forward and back, and I forgot my own name, gripping her and meeting her next movement with passion, needing so much more… of her, of this, of this feeling. I was sweating with the effort it took to let her lead rather than rolling over and taking control, bringing both of us to our peaks in minutes.

It would be mind-blowing, but not nearly as much as it would be if I let her draw this out…

I let go of her hair as she started her slow, torturous rhythm, slipping my hands down over her back. Her head fell from my forehead as her pants became more needy—she braced it against my shoulder and her pace picked up, sending another rolling wave of shock waves through me. "Oh, Jesus, Sara." I groaned out, unable to help myself a moment longer—my hands grasped her hips and pulled her to me each time I arched up in the thrust. Her desperate moans filled the room and I grit my teeth, certain that I wouldn't be able to hold out until she came, but doing everything in my power to prove myself wrong.

Finally, finally, the high-pitched moan she was emitting wavered and cracked and her hips strained desperately against me, knocking my hands off as she moved faster than I had been moving her—which had me catapulting to the brink faster than I'd ever imagined I could even approach. I felt her clamp around me and the dramatic arch of her back—not to mention the fingernails digging into my back—as she let out a keening cry that was so full of pleasure that I absolutely could not hold back—not even a single moment longer—and emptied myself into her on a yelling groan that had me wondering what exactly one would have to do to wake Ayla up—neither of us had managed to be particularly quiet, and yet she still hadn't woken…

Sara collapsed against my chest, her eyes fluttering closed, and only then did I reach behind her, slowly unbuttoning the three buttons holding the silk of her top together in back. She shimmied until it was down and off her body, letting it fall off to the side of the bed, and then curled up with me again with a sigh of satisfaction and approval. I smiled, my breath still coming faster than normal, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "I love you, Sara."

"Mmm," she responded, eyelids fluttering against my chest and tickling, just slightly. "…Love you too, Gil." She murmured, already half-asleep… comfy and warm and pressed against my body. I closed my eyes, not feeling the need to pull away from her just yet, running my fingertips up and down her spine until she slept soundly. Only then did I let myself relax entirely and feel the gentle, soothing, comforting tug of sleep overtaking me as well.


	97. Chapter 97

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, while I was going back to check a detail while writing this chapter, I realized that prior to naming Jace's father 'Tom,' I also named him two other things. ...I struggled with his name, if you couldn't tell. Sooo, if you noticed, mea culpa. If not, disregard me. Eventually I'll reload the documents and edit them... So sorry.

Also, thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I've been struggling with this chapter-I think whenever I get close to a story ending, I feel the need to focus on another, which is a problem. :) But I'm trying to focus!

Enjoy!

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Chapter Ninety Seven:

After the weeks of stress and grief and explaining to Ayla, over and over, where Dada was… to wake up slowly, not to an alarm or to Ayla crying, in a wonderfully plush bed, the sunlight drifting over my face and lighting up the world was… amazing. I blinked slowly, stretching deliciously, and looked to the other side of the bed. Gil was lying there asleep, his stubble looking like it was well past a five o'clock, his mouth slightly open, drool soaking the pillow beneath him. I smiled, blessing his gently closed lids and his wildly tousled curls and the completely limp and relaxed way his form was sprawled across the bed beside me.

I heard babbling coming softly from the living room and slipped out of bed and into the first piece of clothing I found—a button down Gil had worn the previous day. It was wrinkled from the long plane ride and smelled strongly of him and of his deodorant and just slightly of sweat—not enough to stink, but enough to trigger memories of our sweaty encounter the night before. I smiled, feeling quite contented with this shining moment in time, and moved out to scoop Ayla up.

She too, seemed contented. I undressed her and took her into the shower with me, leaving her on the floor of the tub with a duck while I rushed through washing my hair and body and then lifted her up to my body to repeat the process with less haste and more care. I turned the water off and stepped out carefully, wrapping her in a towel and setting her on the floor before retrieving one to wrap around myself. She tried to stand and slipped back onto her bottom, slipping either from her wet feet on the tile or just over the long ends of the towel still wrapped around her.

Her plump little bottom lip stuck out in an exaggerated frown and I chuckled, lifting her up again.

"She pouts just like you." I jumped about a foot and shrieked, spinning around to find a very naked Gil grinning wickedly at me from the doorway. His curls were still a mess, though he'd wiped the drool from his face.

"Oh. Jesus, you scared me."

"Sorry, honey." He stepped in, softly kissing Ayla's brow and then my lips. "Did you want me to order room service for breakfast, or can you wait for me to shower and shave so we can eat downstairs?"

I glanced at Ayla who was sucking on her thumb and offered him a smile. "As long as you don't take too long, I think we can both handle the wait."

He dropped another kiss on my lips. "I'll hurry."

Within twenty minutes we were stepping into the downstairs restaurant for breakfast—I had thought the idea of strolling down the street and buying a loaf of bread from a street vendor or stopping in a cute little café seemed very whimsical and French… and Gil had to remind me that we were in a city we didn't know with a hungry one year old and had no idea how far we might have to walk before we found something resembling a scene from Beauty and the Beast, like I was so obviously picturing.

We ate and Gil spent most of breakfast trying to teach Ayla "Bonjour!" but he insisted on pronouncing it with what I'm quite sure he believed was a French accent… The closest she got sounded like 'zuzu,' and he gave up, his eyes avoiding my amused smirk.

And then we did do some walking down the streets of Paris. Gil said we'd be travelling the next day to the place we'd get married, and then back into Paris for the rest of our honeymoon… but he wanted to give me a day to find something nice for Ayla and I to wear. …I would have married the man in jeans—hell, in pajamas—but I appreciated the amount of thought he'd put into the details—something I knew I could not expect from the average man.

And it was nice, just to walk through the streets, listening to tourists' many languages and accents as they mixed in with the French of the Parisians. It was almost like being swept up in a song, and I found myself smiling in a slow kind of way, just enjoying the day in a way I knew I hadn't in a very, very long time. I found Ayla a little dress of white eyelet lace, and myself a silky black wrap around with white flowers on it. It wasn't exactly a wedding dress, and Gil raised his eyebrow at me when I tried it on.

"Don't you… want something white?" He asked, concerned.

I tilted my head at his frown. "I… guess I just didn't find anything white. I thought it didn't really matter, as long as I found a nice dress…"

He nodded and gave me a weak smile, turning his attention back to Ayla, so I opted not to get the dress, despite thinking that I had looked rather nice in it. We purchased Ayla's dress, and left the store, quieter than before. We ate lunch at a cute little café that I suspected was designed with foolish tourists like me in mind, and after several long minutes of silence, Gil cleared his throat. "You, uh… didn't buy the dress you liked?"

I twisted my lips. "I thought I'd keep looking…" He nodded, focusing back on his food, and I pursed my lips. "You just… didn't seem like you liked it." I said, hoping to get to the bottom of this. He hesitated, and then lifted his gaze to me.

"You looked beautiful in it, Sara."

"Oh." I said, thinking that this did very, very little to clear things up. "Did you… want me to wear white?" I asked, thinking that this was the only clue I had, but thinking that Gil did not seem nearly that traditional.

He pursed his lips, his eyes flickered back and forth between mine, as if looking for something. He set his sandwich down slowly. "I just… you wore white in your first wedding." He said, and I frowned again.

"…So?"

"Nothing." He said, picking up his sandwich again. I frowned.

"Gil, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong."

"Then why are you acting this way?"

"I'm not acting any way, Sara!" He all but shouted, causing a slight lull in the conversations drifting around us, mostly in English, confirming my suspicions that this was a place more for tourists than anything. I swallowed, looking down at my own sandwich and busying myself tearing up the small sandwich Ayla was eating slowly, piece by piece. There was a long pause, and then he sighed. "I'm sorry, Sara."

I frowned further—his voice, even in apology, had sounded gruff. "It's fine." I said, even though it wasn't.

"No," he said, sounding a little calmer and more sincere. "It isn't. …Honey, I… I'm really sorry."

I glanced up at him, piling the torn up sandwich pieces on the tray in front of Ayla. "…Do you want to tell me what this is about?"

He swallowed and turned to look at Ayla, apparently unable to keep his gaze on me. "I… I want you to feel like… like this is a real marriage. A real wedding."

I looked at him in alarm and when his gaze remained on Ayla, I gently reached over and turned him to face me. "I do, baby. …Where is this coming from?"

"Well, we're… we're in a foreign country. None of your friends and family are here, none of mine… and I thought that didn't matter, but then you… didn't want to wear white and it got me thinking, you know, is this really what she wants?"

"Of course it's what I want, Gil. …I don't understand how a dress color is upsetting you so much."

He sighed in aggravation, taking a drink of his water and then sighing again. "Brides… wear white as a sign of innocence, yes, but it's also… it's about her giving herself to her husband in a way she's never given herself before. And… even if you ignore the symbolism, it's a traditional thing for weddings. And I just feel like… like maybe if we get married this way, you'll always look at your first wedding as your real wedding and this one as some kind of… rushed afterthought."

I clucked my tongue, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it. "Gil, honey… this isn't an afterthought." I squeezed his hand, willing him to meet my eyes, and when he did I smiled softly. "We've been waiting for this for years… it's the opposite of an afterthought. And I… I didn't know anything about where we were getting married, so I was hesitant to get something too formal. There weren't any white dresses in that shop back there. I wasn't not picking white because I didn't care about this marriage or because I somehow don't think it's as real or as important… I just didn't think tradition was all that important. Gil… I will be giving myself to you tomorrow, in a way I've never given myself to anyone, and it won't matter if I'm in red, black, or green… It has always, always been you."

He nodded, looking a little emotional, and then half-stood and slid his large hand behind my neck, gently pushing me forward until I half-stood as well in order to meet him in the middle of the table for a quick but impassioned kiss. "I'm sorry, Sara. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Gil." I whispered softly back to him, and together we slid back down, into our seats. Ayla made a loud smacking noise like she was blowing a kiss, and despite the emotion of the moment, Gil and I both started chuckling.

When we finished eating, Gil was cleaning up Ayla in the bathroom while I cleaned up the table… and I asked the woman behind the counter where I could find a formal dress shop. The directions were simple and I pocketed the directions. Gil came out and suggested we go back and get the black dress—I had looked stunning in it, he'd said, but he'd let his insecurities get in his way. I thought about telling him no, but was certain I could slip away from him at some point—we were still rather close to our hotel, after all.

So we bought the dress and headed back to the hotel for Ayla's nap… and apparently, Gil's as well—I hadn't expected it to be so easy, but by the time I had her laying down, he was half asleep in bed, mumbling for me to climb in with him. I did, waiting fifteen minutes for him to slip into a deep sleep, and then hurried out, making my way to the small bridal shop. Tradition wasn't necessarily important, but the message—the meaning—was clearly important to Gil. He'd never been married before… maybe he wanted the spectacle. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he warranted a spectacle as much as Jace. …Either way, I wanted him to be nothing but happy on our wedding day.

I wasn't sure how long he'd sleep, so I hurried, asking a saleswoman to assist me. She didn't speak much English, but enough for me to understand her words—she was giving me dresses to try that would accentuate my figure. It was the third one I tried on—my first time around, I'd never had that 'it' moment in which you just know. But I had it here. It was a simple, sleek fabric, all white. It was strapless, the bodice unadorned, simply a-line down to a dropped waist, and then falling long and simple and billowy from there, down to my feet. It was a formal gown—the kind Gil wanted to see—but it was also simple and functional and didn't make me feel like I was trying to be something I wasn't.

I bought a pair of comfortable, white, flat shoes to wear beneath it, and even let the nice woman talk me into a small veil… It was all expensive, but I didn't even feel guilty… I knew how happy it would make Gil. I took a taxi the few blocks back to the hotel, worried I would somehow ruin it on the long walk, and then tiptoed back through our suite, hoping both Gil and Ayla were still asleep. I knew I ought to keep it hanging rather than folded in my suitcase, but I wanted it to be a surprise. I lifted several layers of my clothes out of my suitcase, folded the dress gently inside it, and put my most lightweight clothing back on top of it. The rest was stuffed into my carryon bag and some of it into the bottom of Gil's suitcase—he wouldn't notice it until it was too late to ask questions.

I sighed happily then, curling back up in the bed with my husband-to-be. He didn't wake, but it was almost as if he knew I'd been gone. As soon as I'd settled myself, he rolled over closer to me, wrapping his arms around me and burying his nose in my neck, breathing deeply. For the second time that day, I eyed his sleeping form, and reminded myself to be aware that this was not all as easy for him as he made it seem. My passport said Sara Wendt, Ayla's birth certificate said Ayla Wendt… she still asked for 'Dada' and called Gil something that sounded like a mixture between Glasses and Gil, because she associated both words with him.

And then, there was the cloud of Jace hanging over our heads—though I had told him many times that I would choose him over Jace, I had never had the opportunity to actually follow through. In San Francisco, I had wanted to choose him even when I was at the alter, but I had thought he wasn't there… In Costa Rica, I had told him I would leave Jace, and the next time he'd seen me I'd been sobbing, wearing my ring, telling him about the ultimatum I'd been given. …In Boston, we hadn't reconnected until Jace died, and yet my grief over his death had hovered over us like a dark specter.

Maybe I was underestimating his insecurities and overestimating his confidence.

I kissed his forehead, slipping my fingers into his curls, and scooted even closer to him, vowing that tomorrow, when I married him, he would know exactly how much he meant to me—and that no man, dead or alive, could ever compare to how I felt about him. …Starting with the wedding dress.


	98. Chapter 98

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, okay, I really really struggled with this chapter. Forgive me if it isn't perfect. Also, fair warning, I've never been to France and know very, very little about it. So if you are from France or have been to France and notice very blatant problems with my descriptions, I'm sorry... it's all guesswork. Willing suspense of disbelief, please. :)

Hope you guys enjoy. Also, if you would like a picture of the place, I'll edit this later today to include a link. Right now I need to speed back to work because I'm going to be late, but I wanted to post this before I left. :)

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Chapter Ninety Eight:

We dressed up that night, got a restaurant recommendation from the man behind the front desk of our hotel, and had a romantic evening out. With Ayla, of course. We were leaving most of the sight-seeing for after the wedding, but after a truly enchanting night of good food and better wine, we couldn't resist catching a taxi to see the Eiffel Tower all lit up against the dark of the night sky, surrounded by lights. We stopped far enough away to appreciate the entirety of the height and beauty, slipping onto a bench, and just looked up at it in awe.

Many, many thoughts were running through my head… I could have told Sara the exact height and weight of the structure, the story behind its construction… but it felt altogether more satisfying to sit in the hushed awe of the moment, my arms around my girls, and bask in the moment.

Once back at the hotel, we laid Ayla down and stepped out onto the balcony, wrapping our arms around each other, taking in the sights and the lights and the feel of the night. We stayed outside for a long time, talking softly at times and at others simply standing in silence, until we felt cold and tired and returned to the bed. I had thought we might make love—even though the night before had been exciting and wild and frenzied, I wanted the night before our wedding night to be gentle and slow and sensual… but the thought of going to bed brought up the thought of waking up—and our wedding day. I was… nervous.

Not nervous like I was having second thoughts—Sara seemed to be the single entity in my life that I was able to approach with absolute certainty. I had always wanted to be a biologist, but I wasn't always certain that it would be a lucrative career move to be an entomologist… I had fallen in to being a coroner, and had hesitated to make the leap to CSI. Any other woman I had ever pursued had been able much contemplation… and never had it meant as much to me as Sara did. It seemed like, with her, everything else stopped and I could clearly see that nothing else mattered quite as much…

But Sara didn't seem remotely nervous or concerned… I mean, I know that we'd been planning this for years and that she'd been married before and it wasn't that I wanted her to have cold feet… but wasn't it normal to be a little anxious? Wasn't it normal to not be able to fall asleep the minute you ascertain that there would be no nocturnal adventures? I mean, really… we'd been in bed, what, five minutes? She was already snoring like it'd been hours.

Okay, I'll be fair—it was a quiet, cute snore, not something loud and intolerable… but still, how could she simply fall asleep when tomorrow—tomorrow!—we were getting married!

Needless to say, I finally drifted off around two in the morning and didn't sleep well—I woke up before Sara, feeling like I'd hardly slept at all, and hurried into the shower in an attempt to wake myself up and look a little… calmer. After everything Sara and I had been through in the last month or so, the very last thing she needed was to know that I was feeling a little… anxious. I mean, she'd handled my outburst the previous day fairly well, but it was minor and I apologized right away.

…I felt so afraid that the minute she realized that our life would obviously not be perfect… not the fantasy she'd dreamed of when she was trapped in a life with Jace… that we would fight and have ups and downs and disagreements… that she would decide it wasn't worth it. That she would realize that this wasn't what she'd imagined or believed she'd signed up for and putting up with me really wasn't worth the love I was offering in exchange.

And how could I even blame her for that? It wasn't.

But I tried to quash those feelings down as best I could under the hot spray. She was marrying me, of her own free will, even after I'd allowed my insecurities to take hold and keep me from listening to her messages or taking her calls… She obviously knew the man that I was, and I certainly hadn't forced her into anything. …Had I?

I mean, sure, it was rather close to Jace's death and we'd been planning marriage since before his funeral, but we'd also been planning it since Costa Rica. Surely she hadn't felt pressured or… uncertain, right? Sara was a strong woman, and even the traumatic events of late couldn't make her agree to a marriage she didn't want… right?

She'd married Jace when she said she wanted me.

Needless to say, the shower did very little to help my nerves. Instead I made coffee in the little coffee maker provided and drank deeply, still trying to force my hands to still. When Sara awoke, I needed to have everything together… this wasn't just our wedding day, but I was surprising her with the location. …Oh shit, I shouldn't have even thought about that because now I was nervous and upset about that. I mean, really, wouldn't she just think I was silly? Drawing connections where there were none?

"Jesus Christ." I muttered under my breath, turning to go get dressed and to try to collect myself before my girls woke up, but when I turned I ran right into Sara, spilling my thankfully luke-warm coffee down the front of the t-shirt she'd slept in. She jumped and yelped at the cold and I was already apologizing profusely. "Oh, God, Sara, I didn't see you there… I'm so sorry, honey. I didn't mean… I didn't see… I—"

She kissed me, long, slow, and deep, and when we slid apart, I was gasping for breath and she was smiling sweetly. "…You look nervous, Gil."

I choked out a laugh. "No, I… you surprised me."

"I know… I've been watching you for ten minutes while you inspected your coffee and tapped your fingers… something on your mind?"

"No." I said, too quickly, upset that I hadn't realized she'd been awake while I stressed and muttered to myself. She grinned. Her hands moving to my chest and slowly sliding lower.

"…No? Because, you know… I think I might need some help getting cleaned up from this coffee mess. And, well… if you had something on your mind, I could think of a few ways to relax you…" Her hands brushed over me and I gasped—both at the sensation and the speed at which my body was responding to her husky voice, coming low and seductive.

"…Ayla." I protested, and she leaned it, flicking her tongue against my lower lip, lightening-quick.

"We'll have to hurry then…"

And then we were stumbling back into the bathroom, into the shower, the boxers I'd thrown on being dragged down my legs as her coffee-stained pajamas went flying, the water turning on—much too cold at first but heating quickly as our bodies collide and intertwined. And, by the time we stepped out again, I had to admit I was feeling much calmer and more reassured…

Sara had kissed me, loved me, moaned when I touched her and looked absolutely wild when she touched me… and the entire time we were joined, she'd been gasping out her absolute love and devotion to me… how much she wanted to marry me and be able to call me hers and herself mine. She dragged her nails up my back and promised that this was everything she'd ever dreamed of and whimpered into my neck before declaring that this would be one of the happiest days of our lives… and when she let out a swooning wail and clamped around me, not only sending me over but in all likelihood waking Ayla in the process, her first words after coming back to herself were just how good I made her feel. Everywhere, she had said, clutching our clasped hands over her heart.

And things went more smoothly after that. Ayla was awake when we climbed out and I took her, letting Sara get herself ready, because I had warned her that although she would have a place to change, I wasn't sure how much other primping she could do. I dressed Ayla in comfy clothes and double-checked that we had all of her dress-up things, and even attempted to put her hair in pigtails… before deciding I would leave the task to Sara. I packed my suit, shirt, and tie, double checking all the details, noticing strangely that some of Sara's clothes and things had been moved to my suitcase.

I shrugged it off, dressing in jeans and telling Sara I was going to head downstairs and talk to the front desk about the rental car I'd arranged for today—she called out that that was fine and I left Ayla in her pack and play, heading down. …I had thought about travelling by train, but knowing that it was a long trip and that Ayla would likely need a nap, I thought a car trip made more sense… assuming I could navigate from here to there. …I was ambitious. Though, I still thought we should leave early, just in case.

I double-checked on the car, and the car seat that was to be provided with it, making sure it was correctly installed, and put Ayla's things in the backseat, hanging my suit in the back window to keep it from getting wrinkled. When I got back up to the room, Ayla's hair was done, but Sara still wasn't dressed.

"Honey…? We've got to get moving pretty quick here…"

"Do we have time for breakfast?"

I looked at my watch—I had planned for us to eat, yes, but I hadn't expected Sara to take so long. "If we hurry."

"Just leave the keys with me and take Ayla to the restaurant. Order for me and I'll be there by the time food arrives…"

I frowned a little, but a glance at the clock told me this was probably a good idea. So I left the keys and a description of the car with Sara, scooped up Ayla, and headed to the restaurant. True to her words, fifteen minutes later Sara arrived with her curls pinned up on her head and her face a little flushed, like she'd been running around—probably trying to hurry. I greeted her with a smile and a kiss and breakfast arrived as soon as she had slid into her seat.

It was a long drive—the directions I'd secured, in both English and French, anticipating trouble with road signs, told me it would take around two hours to make the drive… We arrived in just under three. Sara had spent the entire trip trying to guess where we would be getting married and what I had planned and in small ways—ways I think she probably wasn't even aware of—letting me know how excited she was for the wedding and the marriage we were about to start on together. It was exceedingly reassuring, and I was mad at myself for allowing myself to doubt this morning. She loved me—she'd always loved me—and I should know that.

When we arrived in the small town of Allouville-Bellefosse, she looked around herself in confusion, taking in the old streets and the cute little buildings. "…Are we here?"

"We are." I smiled. She frowned, looking out the window, trying to ascertain exactly what I'd had in mind. Once again, a jolt of insecurity shot through me—maybe this wasn't what she wanted. Maybe my idea was silly and foolish. Maybe I should lie and tell her this wasn't right and simply take her to a random church…

Her slow, deep intake of breath told me that she'd finally caught sight of our destination, and the nerves attacked me again. Without really thinking about it, I found myself speaking—telling her about it—hoping to fill the silence and quash my insecurities and perhaps also convince her, in the process, to like it as much as I wanted her to. "It, uh… In… 1669, this tree—an oak tree—was already five hundred years old, and hollow from being struck by lightning. And this Abbot decided to build a chapel inside it… there's actually two chapels, and the second and the staircase were added later. But I thought… you know, that first kiss… I mean, I knew I was attracted to you and that… there was something between us. But when I kissed you against the oak tree on the Berkeley campus, Sara, I _knew_ that you were the only one in the world I could ever feel like that… like this… about."

I swallowed shakily, noting that she still hadn't said a word, and felt words coming again, simply to hide my nervousness. "We… we named Ayla after it, you know, and I… I just thought… it seemed appropriate. If you don't like it, we don't have to get married here, but…"

Silence. I was too afraid to glance over and see her face. My hands were trembling. "It's one of the most famous trees in France and it's a site of pilgrimage in August for the Assumption of Mary. I… I know you're not very religious and… and I understand, you know, if you don't want another church wedding but—"

"Gil." She murmured softly. I stopped speaking, drawing in a shaking breath and finally coming to a stop near the tree. I glanced at her from the side of my eyes, but could not tell for sure what she was thinking or feeling. I grit my teeth, feeling impatient with myself, and turned to her.

"Sara?"

She turned to me too, and her eyes were full of tears. I felt a moment of panic. This had been all wrong, I shouldn't have tried to surprise her, I shouldn't have just picked the place, I shouldn't have even considered it. Hadn't she told me, years before, that she always pictured herself getting married on a beach? Why hadn't I opted for something I already knew she would like?

And then she was hugging me tightly and her mouth was pressed to my ear, her breath hot and moist as she half-whispered, "It's the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen."

I exhaled in a huff, not realizing that I'd been holding my breath, feeling slightly lightheaded as she sniffled and continued.

"Gil… I didn't know such a place existed. It's like it was created just for us… You remember I told you I didn't really dream about my wedding when I was a little girl? …If I had known about this place, this is what I would have dreamed of…"

She squeezed me tighter, tears falling down her cheeks and landing on mine or slipping down to wet the shoulder of my shirt. "I can't believe they even do weddings at such a famous place…"

I grinned. "Well, it's a little small to hold a wedding like most people would have… but I thought, for us… I had to call in a few favors, but…"

"Favors?"

I shrugged. "I had a Professor from the Sorbonne attend one of my lectures about ten years back and we've kept in touch… He's been trying to convince me to do a guest lecture, so I said that I'd be in Paris if I could find a way to use this place to marry you. I got lucky—really lucky—it turns out he grew up in this area. His aunt grew up with the priest in this chapel…"

She sniffled again and pulled me against her tighter. "Oh Gil… I can't believe this. It's just so perfect… I love you. I love you more than anything—I would have married you in jeans in a run down church or by a justice of the peace in a junk yard… I would have married you anywhere, Gil, so long as I got to call you mine. …I just can't believe that you did this… for me. That we really get to have our wedding this way."

I struggled to fight back my own tears now, relief flooding through my system and making me emotional. "I love you too, Sara. I… I'm so happy you like it."

We held each other until Ayla woke a few minutes later, and then slipped out of the car. Sara said she was going to change Ayla's diaper in the backseat quickly, and so I nodded and went in search of the priest to tell him we were here and, within the half hour, were ready to be married.


	99. Chapter 99

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So I know I said I'd put a link in the last chapter and I didn't. I'm sorry. I fail. It sounds like most of your googled it, but in case you didn't...

wikipedia(dot)org search Chene Chapelle

www(dot)dailycognition(dot)com/index(dot)php/2009/12/27/10-most-extraordinary-trees-in-the-world(dot)html This is where I discovered the tree in the first place.

Thank you for the lovely reviews! Enjoy! And yes, we're winding down, but I still have some things to come, so it should be a few more chapters, depending how long it takes and how much smut/fluff gets thrown in. Oh, and I like epilogues, so chances are there will be one of those too. :)

* * *

Chapter Ninety Nine:

Gil returned quickly, telling me we had about a half an hour, and that he would take Ayla to let me get ready. There was a small home nearby—the priest's home, I learned—where we would be changing. He guided me over and gave me the black dress that had been hanging next to his suit in the back seat, kissing me quickly and turning to take Ayla into a different room to change.

"Gil?" He stopped, glancing at me. I cleared my throat. "I, uh… left something in the car. Can I get the keys?" He pulled them from his pocket and set them in my palm, but I could see his eyes trying to work out what exactly I didn't have in hand. I smiled softly. "Nylons…" I answered his unasked question, and then he nodded, smiling, and turned with Ayla to go get dressed. The minute the door closed behind him, I was rushing out to the car and popping the trunk where I had laid out the gown I'd purchased the day before and rushing back into the small home so that he wouldn't catch me—I wanted him to be surprised.

I had to twist myself around rather impressively to zip myself up the back, but otherwise it was a simple enough dress that I was ready right away… and then I was pacing. I didn't want him to see me until I entered the chapel. Was he planning for us to walk over together? I didn't emerge, and ten minutes later he knocked on the door.

"Honey…?"

"Yeah?"

I could hear him frowning, through the door, at my response. "I… uh… Are you ready to go?"

"It's bad luck to see me in my dress before the wedding."

He chuckled softly. "Sara, you tried the dress on for me yesterday in the store. I've seen it."

"Not on our wedding day! …Besides, it's different… my hair's done and…" I trailed off, but his silence seemed warm and affectionate and made me believe that he understood.

"Okay… well, I'll head over there and tell them you'll be over in a minute or so. Is that okay?"

"Sure… Are you taking Ayla or leaving her with me?"

"Do you want her?" He asked, and suddenly I did.

"Yeah… I'll open the door and stand behind it. You set her in… but no peeking!"

He chuckled again but agreed and we sneakily passed the small child between us. I hefted her onto a hip, hoping it wouldn't ruin the overall appearance of my dress, and listened to the sounds of him moving through the house, out the door, and the fading sounds of his footsteps as he crossed the street to the Chêne-Chapelle. I turned my gaze to Ayla, smiling at her and setting her down with a wry smile, taking the time to adjust her outfit. Gil had done a fairly good job, not having tights to struggle with this time, but her pigtails were askew and the loops on the bow in back overlong. I made the minor adjustments and looked Ayla in the eyes.

"We're getting married, my baby."

"Baby?" She asked me very seriously, looking around for one of her dolls. I smiled.

"You know that we're never going to forget Daddy, right?"

"Daddy." She said, very seriously, but she did not cry—it was rare, now, that just the word would make her burst into tears.

I nodded. "Daddy was wonderful and we loved him a lot…But now we get to have a new man in our lives… a new husband and a new daddy. …It's what your daddy wanted. For us to be happy. …Gil makes you happy, doesn't he?"

Her little eyebrows twitched and her lips quirked. "Gil-as." She responded, a combination of Gil and glasses, and pursed her lips. "Gilas happy."

I smirked and kissed her cheeks. "You think you'll start calling Gil 'Daddy' any time soon?"

She frowned a little, looking confused, but the moment didn't last. In the next second she was babbling to herself, and I drew in a deep breath and lifted her back onto my hips before stepping out of the room. I had my clothing in a bag and stopped to deposit in the car before moving to the chapel. There was no wedding march, no grand entrance or standing guests as I moved up the winding staircase built outside of the tree. I set Ayla down, keeping one chubby palm wrapped around a finger, and stepped up to the entrance.

Because of the lack of fanfare, Gil did not notice our arrival immediately… Ayla tugged away from my hand, toddling down the small aisle and clutching onto the pant legs of his suit, distracting him from his apparently engaging conversation with the woman sitting in the front pew, beside another man. When she gripped him, exclaiming, "Gila!" he looked down at her in surprise, and then his gaze flickered to the entrance and me…

His jaw was slack and his mouth open, his eyes wide and speechless. I blushed—Sara Sidle, a blushing bride… who'd have thought/?—and moved forward, my hands awkwardly smoothing the white gown over and over, basking in his approval and yet somehow still feeling self-conscious.

The woman jumped up and moved to the small piano crowded into the corner, and then music began—not the traditional wedding march, but the beautiful notes of Ave Maria. One of Gil's favorites. He pulled Ayla up and continued to watch me in stunned silence as I moved down the aisle, clutching the ring I'd bought for him in one sweaty, nervous, otherwise-empty palm. And I was nervous… This wasn't how I'd felt my first time around. The emotion had been more like… dread.

I found myself smiling halfway down the aisle. Because the sight I was coming closer and closer to was Gil—my Gil, my love—with my baby in his arms, looking like he could not possibly be happier. …And despite nerves and self-consciousness at the dress and a little awkwardness at this intimate moment being observed by three strangers, I didn't think I could be happier either. Ayla's birth and rescue were perhaps the only moments in my life that could rival it. And then I was there, beside him, and Ayla stretched out away from him to come into my arms. I held her on my right hip, between us, and instead of taking my hands, Gil put his arm around the pair of us, passing me a small bouquet of white tulips, the petals rough along the edges. Fringed tulips. …They were beautiful.

And real.

The service was short, no doubt in part because the priest spoke very little English, slipping into French when he couldn't think of the correct phrasing, Gil murmuring softly to me his best guess of what had been said—he had minimal knowledge of the French language, but it was still more than me. It was simple but sweet… our vows were said, rings exchanged, and he pronounced us not man and wife, but husband and wife. Gil tugged me to him, a giddy, little-boy smile on his face, and he kissed me in a way that was very reminiscent of a kiss we shared against a much smaller oak so long ago.

With the service over, Gil introduced me to the people in attendance—Father Moreau, the piano player, Camille, and her husband Charles, who served as our witnesses on the marriage license that we then proceeded to sign. I marveled at all the small details Gil had taken care of—the license and witnesses, the flowers, the specific phrasings that had plagued me from my first wedding—flushing with pleasure at the gleam in his eyes when he looked at the signed and official marriage license, proof of our union, and then let his gaze move over my dress-clad form.

"I love you," I murmured softly to him, thinking that it was perhaps redundant after the massive expression of love we'd just undertaken, but it was nice to say. …It needed to be said.

He smiled and pressed his lips to my ear. "Je t'aime." I shivered at his words and the hot breath on my neck, wondering if there was a honeymoon suite in town or if we would be heading back to our hotel in Paris right away, like we'd planned. …If we could get Ayla to take another nap…

We thanked the people and Camille hugged me, telling me she'd never been so moved by a wedding service, and then we were leaving the Chapel Oak. Camille ran outside after us, demanding that we wait just a minute, before she hurried down the street. She was back in a minute with a camera in tow, and took several pictures of us in the chapel and in front of it, outside, before taking down our emails and promising to send them to us. "You need some wedding pictures," she scolded us affectionately, and for some reason I found myself hugging her again. I hardly knew her, but I was going to miss her. She almost reminded me of my mother, and it was a strangely comforting feeling.

And despite the lack of fanfare or ceremony or tradition, I still felt that this was a moment that would forever be crystal clear and cherished in my mind, the quiet contentment between us as we moved back to the car poignant and fulfilling and uplifting. We found a small restaurant in the town and, despite our fancy clothes, stopped to eat before heading back to Paris. For some reason, besides the moment of our entrance, Gil in his best suit and I in my wedding gown, people hardly seemed surprised to see us there. Having grown up in a small town, I understood—good news travelled fast and everyone here had probably known we were coming for a week at least.

But the food was warm and good and comforting in the very best way, and just before we left someone decided to start clinging their spoon against their water glass, getting the entire dining room on it within minutes, all eyes on us. Gil was blushing as much as I was as he set the paid check down to the table and reluctantly stood and leaned across the table to press a chaste kiss to my lips. When he pulled away, almost immediately, there were outcries—mostly in French—but we understood their meaning loud and clear.

He kissed me a second time, deeply and fiercely and passionately, turning my face a brilliant shade of scarlet, and we moved out of the restaurant to the sound of applause, Ayla joining in though she had no idea what they were clapping at.

Once we were driving away from the small town and the beautiful, old, perfect tree… I couldn't help but turn around to watch it for a while, feeling entirely overcome with everything he'd done and… with the place itself. I wouldn't just miss Camille—I would miss the entire town. I would miss the tree.

Still, a few miles down the road, I turned my attention to Ayla—her morning nap hadn't been long, and if I could keep her awake until after dinner, she would go to bed early and still sleep through the night. …And right now, that seemed a more-than-admirable goal.


	100. Chapter 100

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: So sorry it's been such a long time between updates. I always struggle with endings of stories, so when life kind of came up and interrupted my attempts with this chapter, I let it. I'm sorry about that. ...A lot of stuff has come up lately. Anyway, I'll try to be better about updates. I want to thank everyone for the support and the reviews-they mean so much to me and really are the reason I've kept up with this, trying to finish/fix this chapter, even when other things were going on. Thank you, thank you, thank you. :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter One Hundred:

"…Are you happy, Sara?" He asked me softly.

I frowned. It wasn't that I wasn't happy… it was just that… this wasn't what I'd expected for our wedding night. "Yes." I said, because anything else just wouldn't be nice. It wasn't his fault that we were lost. Well, I mean, not really.

"This isn't… how I imagined our wedding night."

"I know that." I said, trying hard to be civil.

He sighed softly and turned to me. "It's just… you're not really talking."

"Ayla's finally asleep." I told him, but we both knew I was making excuses. The little booger could sleep through just about anything. He nodded, looking out the driver's side window, and I sighed too. "I'm grumpy, Gil. I'm not talking because I don't want to fight on our wedding night, but this just… it wasn't the way I wanted tonight to go. I'm sure you could say the same thing, right?"

He sighed. "…Right. Of course. I didn't… this wasn't… what I'd planned."

He looked so upset. I reached my hand over, squeezing his gently. "I know that, Gil. I'm not angry… just frustrated. I love you."

He turned his gaze on me. "I love you too."

The drive back to Paris had started out okay… Ayla was a bit tired but I sang some songs with her, read some books, and she seemed content to play at least for a little while. But when I turned back to the road in front of me, the first thing I thought was that… this road didn't look familiar. Apparently Gil had the same thoughts, because within minutes he'd turned around. Three separate times, we returned to the tiny town with the beautiful tree, and attempted to leave again, following signs that were clearly marked 'Paris.' The third time, he finally broke down and went to ask for directions.

Now, it's in my nature to be a little bit… headstrong. I'm like to do things my way. If we'd been in the States, I would have gone and asked for directions myself, since the man was clearly not so good with them. But we didn't know where Camille or her husband lived, the priest was not still at the chapel and he didn't answer his door when we knocked… and so we were left asking someone who spoke less English than I spoke French for directions. Fortunately, 'Paris' is a word people understand in all languages. And, despite Gil's mediocre grasp on the French language, mine was infinitely worse, so I let him handle it.

We were certain we had it right this time. We realized where we'd been making our mistake, and we headed off, with me still trying to entertain Ayla, to keep her awake, in an attempt to salvage our wedding night, despite the fact that it would now be quite late by the time we returned to The City of Lights. If I could keep her up late enough to eat dinner, then chances were she'd stay asleep through being transported from car to hotel room. The problem was that we got lost again, this time much too far from Allouville-Bellefosse to attempt to turn around and once again ask for help. We were pretty confident where we'd made the mistake, however, so when we saw a place that looked big and touristy enough to speak English, we stopped.

We had supper, though it was much later than Ayla was used to eating, and got directions from there. Everything was back on track again… except that Ayla was now so overtired that she was screaming, and yet wouldn't fall asleep strapped down in her chair, despite the best efforts of half an hour. Finally, Gil pulled off into another little town so I could take her from her car seat, rock her for another forty five minutes, and finally get her to sleep. I held her close for several minutes longer, to make sure she was deeply asleep. I didn't want to spend another hour and a half trying to get her back to sleep simply because I'd been hasty. Not to mention, the still and the quiet was a relief after a day or driving in circles and the noise level of the last hour and a half. My ears were ringing, and it was nice to just breathe and relax and distress for a minute.

When I finally buckled her back into her car seat, tucked her blankie close around her, and scrambled—still in my wedding dress, thank you very much—out of the back seat and into the passenger seat, I had more or less given up thoughts of a romantic wedding night. I was disappointed, but still… assuming we didn't get lost again, we'd be back to Paris in time to order some room service—desert, or champagne maybe—and take a relaxing bath together in the hotel suite. I was certain to pass out right after it, but it would be a nice, intimate way to unwind. We made it maybe ten miles before a low thump-thump-thumping and the car dragging to one side told us that we needed to change the tire.

I had wanted to cry at that point. We were just extremely lucky that Gil happened to remember seeing a flashlight in the trunk. He retrieved it and we moved outside, on the side of a tiny little highway outside the small town in which we'd eaten supper, in our formal wear, while I held the flashlight and he looked at the tire. It hadn't blown—our best guess was that it had had a slow leak for some time that went undetected, and we were merely unlucky enough to get stuck with it. …I wanted to snap out, to this obvious assessment of his, that if we hadn't gotten lost, we would have returned the car before it happened.

But I didn't.

The trunk of the car told us that we had a spare but no jack. We piled back into the vehicle, and after some searching, found the phone number of the rental agency. Once Gil managed to convey to them what he wanted—the man working the desk after hours knew very little English, and so several times they would stop conversing to decipher a word between them. Gil would try it in French, or synonyms in English, and they would spend several minutes trying to meet in the middle and find a way to communicate. Once he understood our plight, of course, he was very apologetic… He said he'd send someone out with a new car, just to tell him where we were.

Like we had any idea which town we had just left behind.

Gil did his best to explain, and the man did his best to understand… and said that he was sending someone out… but we weren't exactly hopeful. He'd hung up the phone and we'd sat in silence for several long seconds before he asked that question—Was I happy—as if a series of unfortunate circumstances would make or break how I felt about our life together… or how I remembered our wedding day and night. But in the moment, I was irritated too. It had been a long, stressful day, I'd just finished listening to him spend an hour attempting to communicate in between two languages something that should have taken fifteen minutes to communicate, and that only occurred after I had spent how long trying to calm down my overtired little princess. I was in a bad mood.

But the gaze he turned to me was so… hesitant. Like he thought that he'd ruined everything. It melted away my frustration at being in an uncomfortable gown in a car for hours, and everything else that had a moment before had me gritting my teeth. …Even after marrying him, and the gesture of the dress—which I had thought he would really appreciate—he still seemed insecure. I turned soft eyes on him and put a hand to his cheek, caressing softly.

"Gil, honey, look at me…" I said, because his eyes were flickering from my nose to my hair to my shoulders to my ears, but never my eyes. When they finally met mine, they looked pained, and I leaned over and kissed him impulsively, just trying to banish that look. I hated to see that. When I pulled back, his baby blues were shining, and though they still looked uncertain, it wasn't as bad. "…This is our wedding day, baby, and while I might be irritated at the circumstances… I couldn't be unhappy if I tried. …Today, you've given me everything I've ever wanted. …Twenty years from now, thirty, forty… I'm not going to remember what my headache feels like, or my irritation… but for as long as I live, I will remember how I felt when I saw that tree today… when I saw you, in the chapel… how I felt when I realized how much effort and concern and love you'd put into this day, even the details… the flowers, and Ayla, and… all of this. On my death-bed, my love, I will think of white fringed tulips, and a ceremony in a tree, and how you held Ayla and I, and the look in your eyes when you kissed me and knew I was yours, forever."

He blinked a little too rapidly and then lifted a hand to cover mine on his cheek, leaning in and kissing me again, drawing strength and reassurance and letting love flow freely between us. "I… I never told you how much I liked the dress, Sara." He breathed, right against my lips, pressing his softly to mine again. "I know it was silly to want a white dress… but you look so beautiful in this. It… meant so much, honey."

I brushed my nose against his and our lips pressed gently together again. "I'm sorry I didn't realize, at first, what the dress meant for you. …Gil, I know that… that when Jace was alive, I never got a chance to… choose you over him. The way things happened… But I would have, Gil. From the moment I met you, I knew you were different. …I wouldn't have married him, if I'd known you were there."

I felt a pang of guilt for the man who had died to save our child—who I would have so willingly hurt in order to be with Gil—but it didn't change the truth. Gil pressed his lips to mine, again and again, sweet, shallow kisses, but they communicated so much need and love and devotion. "I just wanted today to be perfect for you, because your first wedding…wasn't. And… everything has all gone to hell…" he murmured softly, his eyes closing at his disappointment.

"No. No, it hasn't. I told you that when I remember this day, even when I remember these trials, it will be with humor… but when I remember the good things… how sweet you were, how loved I felt… how much love I felt for you… I'll remember exactly how I felt."

His next kiss was harder, deeper, and hinted at his growing desperation. "Oh, god, Sara, I just love you so much… I was going to spend all night just… worshipping your body."

I groaned softly. "I know, honey. …I wanted that too. But we did just make love this morning… so it's not like we won't have done it on our wedding day… And with any luck, we'll be found soon, and we can go back to the hotel…" I kissed him again, the love and relief and exhaustion of the day seeping through us and lightening the stress of the moment, until my body felt loose and languid again, and with a flutter of my eyelids I realized that despite my words, I wanted him to touch me…wanted him to make love to me again. I groaned again, this time in frustration, and he chuckled and pulled back.

"What happened to that positive attitude?" He teased me lightly, and I tugged him gently to me, kissing him again.

"I love you so much, Gil. …I must not say it enough, if you thought anything could dampen this day for me. But… no one has ever made me feel like you do. You know that, right? I wanted this dress to tell you that… I wanted to make sure you knew it, but…"

"Hey, hey, hey," he soothed me, rubbing his nose against mine gently. "I know that, Sara, I do. It's just… it took us so long to get here and sometimes I…worry. But here," he took my hand and pressed it to the center of his chest, "in my heart, Sara, I know that. I know how you feel about me. I promise I do."

I kissed him again, heat shivering its way down my spine, and he chuckled and pulled back. "Honey… we have an infant in the back seat."

"I know!" I hissed in frustration, nipping at his bottom lip anyway. He gasped, and I felt the mischievous smirk slide over my lips. "…The shoulder?"

His eyes went wide in the dark of the car. "…Like, the shoulder of the road?"

I grinned. "It's dark, we're in a low traffic area, the car would block us, Ayla would be safe inside the vehicle with the hazards on… and it'll probably be hours before anyone finds us…"

He was tempted, I could tell. He bit his lip uncertainly, glancing between Ayla in the back seat and the dark look I knew was in my eyes… and I decided he would need a little more convincing.


	101. Chapter 101

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Sooo, a few things:

-I'm a novice at French. Forgive me. I used it sparingly.

-I was feeling a little cheeky at the end of this chapter... :) Indulge me, I've given you over a hundred chapters now.

-OVER A HUNDRED CHAPTERS! Ahh! (Did I mention feeling cheeky? -giggles-)

As always, thank you for the loverly reviews and I hooope you enjoy this chapter. :) The end.

Oh, no. Not yet. ...Jellybean, how is this for a Captain Orgasm? :D

Okay, now The End. (Of my A/N, not this story. Yet.) :)

* * *

Chapter One Hundred and One:

Her hand slid up my thigh, and my eyes closed tightly. It wasn't that I didn't want her—God, I wanted her—it was just that this wasn't right. I had planned out this day perfectly—we were supposed to get back to the hotel in time for a romantic dinner in a private room downstairs, put Ayla to bed and relax a little in the big Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, teasing each other, and then get out and order strawberries and champagne from room service and consummate our union in the most romantic way I could think of, in a giant, luxurious, fluffy bed.

It was probably thoughts of that which had gotten us lost in the first place—thinking of the French Maid's uniform and the wedding gown surprises, I was almost certain she had wedding night attire planned out… and I'd been trying to imagine it while driving out of Allouville-Bellefosse. Would it be traditional and white, or seductive and black? Maybe playful and bright… her skin shone in just about any color… and before I knew it, we were turning around for directions.

Knowing that letting the smaller of my two heads do the thinking for me had gotten us into this mess should have told me that allowing it a second time wouldn't help, but she was just damn convincing…

"Sara," I gasped out, catching her wrist in my hand and pulling it from me with a soft moue of disappointment. "…We can't, on the side of the road. Your dress… And if someone comes… and leaving Ayla in the car… It doesn't feel right."

"Gil…" She whispered, deep and delicious. "It's our wedding night…"

I throbbed, but shook my head. "It is. …And this isn't how our first time as man and wife should-ohhhh!" I groaned, her other hand having replaced the one I still held away from me.

"But we can't do it in the car, Gil. …Even if it didn't bother me that Ayla is… right there… car sex makes the car move. A lot. We'd wake her up, and then not only would we be frustrated, but she's be up and crying again."

I blinked in surprise. I wouldn't necessarily say that my wife—_my wife_—was more experienced or…adventurous…sexually than I was. In truth, my sexual past was no doubt far more interesting than hers, though it was certainly not something I was proud of…but still, she never ceased to astonish me with the sheer variety of locations in which she had…been intimate. Not that inside a car was as extreme as airplane bathrooms or on the hood of a Camaro, but her blatant use of the phrase 'car sex' still stunned me.

Unfortunately, she used my moment of surprise to unbutton and unzip my pants and pull me through the hole in the front of my boxers. …And her hand's slow, teasing strokes were proving far more effectual against bare skin. "Sara." I attempted, rolling my head on the seat to look at her. She licked her lips.

"…Outside?"

"No." I managed, though it was breathy and unconvincing, even to my ears. She grinned.

"And if I got out there right now and slid out of this dress…?"

I grasped her hand again, desperately trying to regain some control. "…I would be understandably upset that my bride was naked on the side of a French highway."

She shook her head. "Then you just need a little extra convincing…" She purred, lowering her head and snaking out her tongue. I gasped out loud at the contact and the heat that came with it, my hands moving to her head to pull her off and succeeding in only tangling my fingers in her hair, which she had long since taken down when the pins were starting to give her a headache. I groaned softly, still trying to murmur out words that would discourage her, and aware that I was failing entirely. I was just about to acquiesce—she was moving in such a way that would grant me no release, yet keep me wanting it as fervently as I wanted air—and say we would go outside but we needed to hurry… when headlights shone bright in the rearview mirror over the top of a hill, very close and moving slowly… and then signaling and pulling onto the shoulder behind us.

"Sara!" I said, pulling her from me almost forcefully and quickly refastening my pants, aware that they were doing little to conceal my erection. I frantically grabbed my suit jacket from the back seat and laid it across my lap just as the men approached us on my side of the car. I rolled the window down, and the first man bent down.

"Salut, Monsieur. We're with the… car rental agency. We have a jack and tire, if you would like us to repair your vehicle, or we can give you the keys to ours, if you're in a hurry."

I cleared my throat, adjusting the suit jacket self-consciously, and glancing at Sara. She had a mischievous smirk on her face, but answered seriously. "…She'd probably sleep through a tire being changed…"

I nodded, turning back to the man. "We can wait… we've got a sleeping infant in the back we don't want to risk waking up by attempting to move…"

They looked apprehensive, but nodded, and moved back to the vehicle they'd driven out here and opened the truck while I rolled the window back up, trying to think of ways to get my…problem…to go down. Sara giggled and got out of the car, and with a huff I popped our own trunk and got out as well, slipping my jacket on, hoping it would disguise the issue while I headed back towards the men to tell them that we did have a spare tire in our trunk, just not a jack.

At first Sara stayed outside to supervise, and I suspected she was itching to jump in and do it herself—the woman knew her way around a car—but was far too sensible to risk ruining her dress. Eventually, she sighed and slid into the slanting car via the back seat, just in case Ayla woke up. I held two large flashlights for the men as they worked in tandem with an impressive speed, removing the flat and replacing it with the spare, tightening the tire in place and then slowly bringing the car back down to earth.

I thanked them genuinely, though their amused smiles when I commented—complimentarily—on how quickly they'd found us told me that they might have realized some of what had been going on. But then, Sara's lips had looked puffy and thoroughly fuckable when they'd arrived, and I was probably less than smooth when it came to hiding my response to her. They offered to guide us back to Paris, since they knew from the man I'd spoken to on the phone that we'd gotten lost a few times, and we weren't nearly as far away as I'd thought we were. Within the hour, we could see the light diffusion against the sky, even if we couldn't yet see the Eiffel Tower or any of the other recognizable Paris landmarks.

We probably seemed like rather stupid Americans, because they guided us directly to our hotel before waving cheerfully at us and going on their way, and Sara chuckled a little at that as I steered us into a parking space and glanced at the clock. 12:36. A.M. I sighed. "…I'm sorry, Sara. It's not really our wedding night anymore, and I'm sure you're tired…"

She yawned, but smiled. "I'm never too tired for you, Gil. …Let's get Ayla to bed, yeah?"

I nodded, feeling my own eyelids drooping, and took the few bags we'd brought along while she lifted the sleeping toddler to her shoulder, her arm tucked in the crook of Ayla's knees, supporting her under her diaper-clad bottom. We went up to our room in silence and I moved to place the bags while Sara slowly undressed Ayla, changed her diaper, and slipped her into pink feet pajamas with little white bunnies all over them. Ayla liked to point at them and say 'Un-nee!' She had a pair in blue with cows, but she called them moos as opposed to cows. I slipped out of my suit, hanging it up in the closet, and came over, saying I'd lay Ayla down so Sara could change.

When I returned, she was standing in underwear, hanging the dress and replacing it a thick, white garment bag and hanging it in the closet. …I wasn't sure what would happen tonight, but I knew that we were both exhausted, and so I didn't want to ask and make it sound like I was…pressuring her. I mean, I wanted us to have a wedding night, but I also didn't want it to be a miserable experience because we were both too exhausted to even get into it. …I would leave it up to her.

I moved behind her, hands gently catching her waist and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of her shoulders. "I'm sorry about tonight, honey. I love you." I kissed the opposite shoulder and gently nuzzled my face in her neck, in an affectionate rather than seductive manner. She pressed gently back against me, her arms rising over her head and around my neck in an embrace. I tightened my grip around her waist, and when we released each other, I gently moved to the bathroom to go through the motions of getting ready for bed.

Between using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I washed my hands—and found myself looking down at the simple gold band Sara had purchased for me and slipped on my hands for the first time today. It fit perfectly, and I wondered how she'd ascertained my ring size without my knowledge. I ran the fingers of my right hand over it affectionately before snatching my toothbrush—blue to Sara's pink—from our travel bag and quickly brushing. I found myself almost slumping from bathroom back to bedroom, and thought that it wouldn't exactly ruin our wedding night to just curl up and sleep together. Sara was right—we had made love just that morning. There was still a tiny part of me that felt… disappointed… but I pushed it aside with a yawn and curled up under the covers as I listened to Sara checking on Ayla and double-checking the locks on the door before making her own way into the bathroom.

Despite the years in which I'd loved her, it had only been since Ayla's kidnapping that I'd actually shared a bathroom with her. So while we weren't necessarily shy about bathroom habits, more often than not we simply did them separately. In a few years, I'm sure, we would disgust each other with how comfortable we were together, but for now, I felt no pressing urge to force the issue, despite the fact that she had teased me mercilessly the first time she caught me carrying an entomology text into the bathroom in Boston.

I settled into bed, yawning again, and turning the television on, not wanting to fall asleep before she even came out, despite being fairly certain that we would just be cuddling up and maybe talking for a few minutes before we drifted to sleep. Just as I was about to call to her to make sure she was okay, I heard the bathroom light turn off and sat up a little, already smiling at the thought of her in either her fuzzy pajama pants and a tank top or one of my t-shirts, looking sweet and comfortable and entirely adorable. …So when she stepped into my line of vision, I nearly had a heart attack. …And I was definitely awake.

She was wearing a spaghetti strapped little nightie that was solid and fitted over her breasts, but sheer and floaty beneath that, parting midway down her stomach to reveal a white garter belt that hooked to lace-topped white stockings. Her tiny, lacy little panties tied on either side… so there would be no need to even remove the stockings. I groaned softly in appreciation, and she smiled. "…I thought about saving this for tomorrow, but… I didn't think the effect would be as dramatic. …I hope you're not too sleepy…"

Despite the blatantly provocative and adventurous nature of her ensemble, her approach was slow and sensual, and our lovemaking was the same. My senses were reeling with the soft, silky feeling of every scrap of clothing she had on, and I took my time in removing them, leaving the stockings and garter belt as I slowly slid inside her, my whole body trembling with the feeling. She bent down over me, forehead pressed to mine, and held my gaze for what felt like an eternity, but would never be long enough. Instead of thrusting in and out or Sara lifting and dropping herself, we wrapped our arms around each other and rocked in time with each other, keeping me pressed as deeply into her as possible.

The result was a much lower-level of pleasure… a simmering rather than a burning… it was soft and deep and overwhelmingly sensory, and it meant that we could stay close—we were not mindlessly seeking pleasure, we were wrapped up in one another, the pleasure a result of our eye contact as much as it was of our movements. And though I had not expected this, Sara seemed far more responsive to this manner of lovemaking… her climaxes were not so explosive, but they lasted an unbelievably long time, and came again and again. By the end of her fourth small but lingering orgasm, she looked nearly mindless, her eyes out of focus, and I was thrumming with a deep pride at that.

And yet, the minimal movement did not exhaust me the way traditional lovemaking did, and she was the one who called a stop to it, peaking six and telling me that she simply could not take it any longer. It was too much for her to handle, and every inch of her was oversensitized—she was clenching around me and shuddering every time her nipples slid across my chest, and when I slid my hands down to cup her beautiful ass and tug her more firmly against me, she nearly convulsed.

For me, the slow rhythm felt amazing, but would not allow me to finish, so I rolled her back onto her back and sped up, seeking my own climax imminently, and though the faster pace seemed to help with her sensitivity issues, she was still nearly screaming beneath me, and when my thrusts faltered and the unbelievable, rolling waves rushed through me powerfully, I felt her clench around me a final time, this one seeming more like the climaxes I recognized—large, incendiary, cataclysmic.

I slid out of her a moment later, once I'd caught my breath, feeling incredibly sore and not even remotely sorry for it. A glance down at her told me she was seconds away from being deeply asleep, so I gathered my strength and sat up, unhooking her garter belt and sliding it and the stockings off her body. She would wake up sore if she slept in something that tight… and then I finally curled up behind her, drawing her gently to my chest where she snuggled up, even in sleep, and sighed a deep, exhausted, contented sigh.

And despite my own fatigue, I felt a shameless smirk slip over my face, lacking the tiredness of the rest of my body. Normally I was not an arrogant man… but Sara had just had eight—_albeit small_—eight—_count them, eight!—_orgasms in my arms. …And even if it meant that neither of us could walk for the rest of the time we were in Paris and then some… it didn't really matter.

I was Gilbert Grissom—_Sex God._


	102. Chapter 102

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Okay, so sorry for the delay! This is the last chapter, and I rewrote it about twenty times, so I hope you like it. Epilogue will be up either tonight or tomorrow-if you end up reading this after the epilogue is posted, and choose to not leave two separate reviews, I would still appreciate it if you address both chapters in the one review you do leave. :) It's not that I'm greedy-I just want feedback!

Enjoy!

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Chapter One Hundred and Two:

Ugh. I was never, never having sex again.

I mean, don't get me wrong, it had been…_amazing_… Really. …_Last night_.

This morning, it was just…well, painful, to be honest. My whole body hurt, and not in that gentle, easy to ignore kind of way. …And it wasn't the localized pain of having rough sex, which we certainly hadn't done. No, it was the all-over pain of little-used muscles being put to work, but it was deep and pervading and…awful.

Ayla started crying, and when I ignored her—Yes, that's right, blatantly ignored my crying child—Gil got out of bed to get her. I felt guilty, and tried to sit up… and then promptly decided there was no way I was managing that feat today.

We were never doing that, ever again. I stretched slowly and groaned, letting myself snuggle deeper into the warmth around me. The next time I opened my eyes, Gil and Ayla were both sitting on his side of the bed, the room was much brighter, and French cartoons were playing on the television, keeping Ayla's gaze fixed. I blinked blearily and Gil smiled at me, the precise curve of his lips a little smug. I closed my eyes to prevent myself from rolling them and wiped the sleep from them before sitting up slowly. "What time is it?"

"Mmm, going on noon. Coffee?" He offered me, and I noticed a tray sitting on his nightstand.

"Please. Breakfast?" He passed the entire tray over Ayla's head and into my lap. Most of the food was still warm, though not hot, and it looked like he and Ayla had already eaten. I glanced at the pair of them, Ayla sitting between Gil's pajama-clad legs, her wet head pressed back against his bare chest, and his own wet curls telling me they'd had a father-daughter shower this morning. I leaned over and kissed his bare shoulder. "I love you, husband."

The flash in his eyes, then… the way his smile turned from smug to watery and his eyes got just a little bit wider… it told me everything I ever needed to know, and more. I ate, snuggled Ayla a bit, and within the hour Gil put her to bed for me, and then gallantly attempted to carry me into the bathroom for a hot soak in the tub. I say attempted not because I doubted he could lift me normally, but it seemed like I wasn't the only sore one this morning. Instead, we walked in together, me limping a little, arms around each other. And this part was almost better than the sex… sitting in the Jacuzzi tub with him, laying back against his solid, strong, masculine chest, letting the hot water soothe and relax.

I'm pretty sure I slept, for at least a few minutes, but he didn't seem to mind. He put his knees up, underneath me, to keep me from sliding out of his lap, and his arms gently around me, keeping me in place and close to him. And I wasn't limping, when we finally got out, so that was a plus.

We had another week in Paris, and we both had a list of things we wanted to see… famous cathedrals and landmarks and museums. But everything was, of course, scheduled around Ayla's naps. Still, there was something serene in the simple pattern of living we'd slipped into. Wake up, take a family shower, dress for the day, go downstairs and eat breakfast… walk or take a taxi to the Louvre or the Musée d'Orsay or the Arc de Triomphe, and then come back to grab a quick lunch and put Ayla down. Then we'd have quiet time together, to plan our afternoon's adventure or to catch a nap ourselves or to simply sit together, close, and enjoy just being able to touch each other freely. …It was a luxury a long time in coming. When Ayla woke we'd make a trip to the Hôtel de Ville or the Sainte-Chapelle or the Dôme des Invalides. And at night, we'd eat, play with Ayla for a little down time after supper, and curl up in bed.

We didn't make love for days after that first night of marital bliss—I was seriously sore. And, to be perfectly candid, I think I enjoyed sex more with fewer orgasms. It was just too much—almost painful, near the end, despite how small they were. In fact, there was only one other occasion for the remainder of our honeymoon. It was on the day we went to Montmartre. Gil was the one excited to see it, and he purchased several souvenirs for his mother, explaining how the region had been home to any number of artists and composers—Matisse, Renoir, Pissarro, Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso, Satie. But we did see other things in the area—Le Moulin Rouge, Le Chat Noir, and then ended the day at the Sacré-Couer Basilica.

We were outside the famous scarlet windmill and, unbeknownst to me, Gil and Ayla had trailed behind me, Gil looking at the restaurant right beside the Moulin Rouge, looking to see if it offered vegetarian options despite the large advertisement, in English, that it was a burger restaurant. I still hadn't concretely given up all meat, but burgers were beyond what I could stomach. …He must have been hungry, I guess. I didn't notice immediately, as I was looking for some information about shows. Logically, I knew we didn't have a babysitter for Ayla and that it was probably entirely inappropriate to take her to anyway… but maybe they did more family-friendly afternoon shows?

I never found out—a man, very clearly a tourist, was all of a sudden very, very close to me, smiling… strangely. It wasn't quite salacious, but it wasn't just friendly indifference, either. He was sporting a lime green fanny pack and had a large, expensive digital camera hanging on a strap around his neck, and his baseball cap told me that he was American—which made sense. We weren't exactly the most polite people in the world.

Shifting my large purse, which doubled as a diaper bag, I glanced at him uncertainly. "…Hello." I hoped I said it in an offhanded way, the way you greet someone you unintentionally make eye contact with in the line at the bank. I hoped that it would jar him back to his senses and he would realize he was making me uncomfortable.

Instead, he took a step forward. "Hi. I, uh… I was wondering if I could take a picture…" I blinked uncertainly, frowning.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you, uh… you're… I know that you're not…working…right now, but…" My eyes widened. What exactly was he implying that I did? …What else could he mean, asking about me working… I watched his eyes flicker between me and the slowly rotating arms above us, and it clicked.

"Oh! No, sir, you're mistaken. I… I don't work here. I'm not… a dancer." I offered an uncomfortable smile. "I hate fishnets." God, I was overtalking. I was just… so out of my element. So awkward. I wanted him away. I didn't care where… just far, far away.

I shouldn't have mentioned fishnets though—his eyes flickered down my body then, as if this had been an invitation to eye my legs and imagine me in fishnets. I flushed and took a step back, finding myself pressed against the building and feeling very trapped, despite the fact that he did not move any closer to me when I moved. "…Are you sure?" His voice was skeptical, and growing in confidence. "I… I saw the show last night. I recognize you." He accused.

I floundered. "I… No. No, I-I-I'm sure. I'm not… I'm a terrible dancer!" I implored, and glanced over to Gil anxiously. He seemed engrossed in the signage, still, but must have felt the weight of my gaze on him—he turned at just that moment, saw my distress, and moved in my direction. However, at the same time, I felt movement in front of me—the man had taken a step closer to me.

"I doubt that… Listen, really, I… if you don't want people, you know, around here, to know… I understand. Let me buy you dinner before you show tonight. I… I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it… it was amazing."

"No, really. I'm not—"

He scoffed. "At least let me take a picture then, if you're going to lie to me and turn me down." His voice had changed rather quickly, and this time when he looked me up and down, the intent in his eyes was less guarded. I stiffened.

"No. I think you need to leave me alone, now."

He snapped a picture anyway, just as Gil arrived. "…Honey, what's going on here?" He asked me, but he was facing the man, Ayla up on one of his hips. "…Is there a problem, sir?"

He took a step back, glancing at me with the lust in his gaze obscured once again. "No. No problem. I was just leaving."

To my surprise, Gil reached out the hand that wasn't beneath Ayla and caught the camera around the man's neck, stopping his retreat. Without letting go, he passed Ayla over to me and stepped closer to the man. "Sure, no problem. As soon as you delete that picture of my wife, you can be on your way."

The man clutched the camera, trying with both hands to pull it out of Gil's one-handed grasp, and failing. "I'm sorry, but it's not illegal to take pictures… she was standing in front of a landmark. Let go."

Gil smiled. "You know, I'm pretty sure backing a woman against a wall and assaulting her with your eyes qualifies as sexual harassment. …And even if it doesn't, the time it would take to sort all of this out with the police would most definitely take up the rest of your otherwise enjoyable day—let's be civil, and you can erase the picture."

I thought for certain the man would back down—Gil was a rather intimidating presence when he wanted to be—but instead he narrowed his eyes. "We're at an impasse—your only means to keep me here is threat of police action, but if I don't let go, you can't force anything. Wrestling my camera off its strap or over my neck will most definitely qualify as assault—in which case, the police would side with me. I guarantee you have more places to be, today, than I do… what with your _adorable_ little girl waiting…" He glanced at Ayla and I together, and the way he said that word… I turned Ayla's face over my shoulder and glared at the man, fighting the impulse to just walk up and kick him in the balls.

Despite deserving it, he was right—that would be of more interest to the police than his snapshot. Gil's face turned up in a tight-lipped smile that told me exactly how much he wanted to do exactly the same to the man, but he was the picture of control. Not releasing the device, he used his free hand to quickly unhook camera from strap and remove it from the man's hands. One-handed, he passed it to me, keeping his body between me and the man. There was a loud protest as the man tried to get around him, but I didn't hear most of it—I was focused on deleting the picture that was still up on the tiny screen. I passed the camera back and Gil took it, without turning to me.

"Go back to the car with Ayla. I'll be along in a minute…"

"Gil—"

"I'm not going to do anything." He reassured me. "…Just preventing another picture from being taken, as we leave."

I hesitated, but decided that this creeper having a picture of Ayla in my arms would be much worse than the original picture had been… and I set off. The car was close by and we reached it within ten minutes—Gil came back in twenty, looking no worse for the wear, and at my gaze, he quickly filled in the blanks.

"I just wanted to make sure he didn't follow me or anything. …He wanted that picture of you way too much."

I nodded, shivering, and we drove back to our hotel, in relative silence, choosing to spend the rest of the day in, having been moderately shaken by the event. And that night, despite still having aches in muscles I didn't know I had, I sought him out, wanting him to erase the dirty feeling of the man's eyes on me.

Thankfully, most of the rest of the trip was uneventful. Although, on the last day we were there, several big things did happen. We'd spent the morning seeing the Jardin de Luxembourg. Though this was something both of us had wanted to see, it also had a lot of activities for Ayla, and we felt like she deserved that—a day to run and be silly, after how many long, tedious days of sightseeing with Gil and I. It was nice to have a leisurely day. We took her to watch a puppet theatre and to look at fountains and she even got a pony ride—Gil walked beside her, holding her on the horse, which only took a few steps anyway, but she squealed when he did and giggled her little heart out. Gil grinned at her and tried to teach her 'pony' as well as that a pony says 'neigh,' but ended up counting himself a success when she lurched herself forward in the saddle to hug the brown pony's neck, saying "Nee! Nee!"

The pony, for his part, grunted a little and seemed to roll his eyes. The entire time I took pictures from the sidelines, tears brimming in my ears and laughter bubbling up through my lips. When he came back over, setting her between us and each of us taking one of her hands to walk, slowly, away, he leaned in and murmured, "Did you hear that? She said 'Pony, neigh.' She's s a genius."

I snorted softly and let go of Ayla's palm to put the camera back into my purse. "Gil, she _may_ have been trying to say 'pony'… but she might have just been babbling too."

"She said 'pony, neigh' Sara, and you know it." He said, and then looked down abruptly. "Ayla!" She had let go of his hand and was running in a toddle towards a duck that was waddling along the pond nearby. Gil looked positively alarmed, both at her proximity to the water and to the duck, but I just smirked and giggled while he hurried after her. …They were just so cute together.

And when the inevitable occurred and little miss speed demon lunged for the duck, chaos broke out. The duck quacked indignantly and flew up and away from her, landing in the water, and Ayla hit the ground, smearing mud over the chubby palms that tried to brace her fall and scraping up her knees. Thankfully, there was a moment of surprised shock before she started screaming—enough time for me to assess that she was just fine. Nothing some soap and water and a band-aid wouldn't fix. And the pause gave Gil a chance to catch up to her. I followed behind, listening to her wails as Gil slowly stood her up, hugging her tightly and trying to calm her down.

"Gla! Gla! Dadaaaaa! Owwwieee! Owwwieee! Dadadada! Glaaaa!"

I smiled sheepishly at the dramatics—my little girl had a set of lungs on her—and wondered sadly if that was hurting Gil's feelings. …She was calling out for him and Jace simultaneously. I mean, logically, I knew that Gil knew it had only been a few months since Jace had died. It was too early to expect her to understand that Jace was gone, much less understand that Gil was a 'daddy' too. But emotionally, it had to be hard to press her to his chest and want to be the one she cried for, and only being half of that equation.

I watched as he soothed her with soft words and gentle pats on her back, and then gently eased her away from his body so he could survey the damage. He wiped off her hands as best as he could, despite his shirt already being covered in muddy handprints, and looked down at her knees. Both had broken the skin, although while one merely had little pinprick points of blood, the other was already running down her leg, ruining her frilly white socks. Gil frowned a pulled a wet nap from his pocket—he was always prepared, and I wondered if that was a result of being a CSI for so many years, or if it was just the man he was, CSI or no—tore it open, and gently wiped the blood off her leg to see the scrape. It wasn't bad, and he pressed the wet nap to it gently, still speaking softly to her, trying to stop the bleeding until we could get somewhere to clean her up.

A moment later, he pulled it away and glanced at the knee, which seemed to be doing much better. "There." He said softly, his deep blue eyes meeting her dark brown. "All better. …That was rough, huh? Did you get a big owie?"

She sniffled dramatically and her voice quavered when she nodded and said, "Owwieee…"

I could see the quirk at Gil's lips, but he didn't laugh at her. He nodded very seriously. "I know. Owies hurt. They're not fun. …That's why you have to stay close to us, okay? You scared us."

She blinked at that, and I had to stifle my laugh. Between Ayla's dramatics and Gil's serious, adult-like talks with her, I was struggling. Gil chuckled himself, apparently realizing that she didn't know what he meant. It didn't stop him though. He laid a kiss on her forehead. "Okay, are we all better now or do you need one more hug? We should say buh-bye to the ducky and go show Mommy your owies…"

She didn't answer him, but her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck and she sniffled, murmuring, "Gla Dada" for good measure. He blinked in surprise, his eyes turning to mine frantically, seeking reassurance that he had not misheard. I smiled uncertainly, wanting him to have that moment, but not knowing if it was really what she'd meant… She turned her head and puckered up, laying a loud kiss on his bearded cheek the way he had spent at least an hour the previous night doing to her. "Dada Gla."

Clear as day. It was my turn to meet his eyes in nervous excitement, and found them filled with as much emotion as I'd seen the day in the tree, when I became Sara Grissom. He blinked rapidly and, ignoring his aching knees and back, picked her up from the position he was in rather than separating, standing, and then pulling her up, which was easier for him. He squeezed her to his chest tightly. I stepped up, eager to prove, once and for all, what she'd said.

"Ayla…" She looked at me. "Who is this?" I pointed to myself.

"Mama!"

I grinned. "Who is that?" I pointed to the offending duck who had started all of this.

"'ucky!"

With a nervous flutter, I pointed to Gil. "Who is this?"

"Dada Gla!" and with that, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug again. Gil met my eyes, swallowing hard, and pressed her against him with a quiet earnestness.

"…D-daddy loves you, Ayla." He murmured softly, and I knew in a moment how many times he'd wanted to say that and stopped himself. How many hugs and kisses, meals and baths and bedtimes they'd shared in which Gil had not used that phrase because he didn't want to feed her words. …How many times I had unthinkingly told her 'Mommy loves you,' without realizing what it must do to him that he couldn't say the same for himself.

I slid an arm around Gil's waist. "…Should we take her back… get her cleaned up for nap?" He nodded, and the three of us walked back to catch another cab.

After lunch, I let Gil put Ayla down for her nap, listening to his voice coming through the open doorway as he leaned over the crib sides to pat her back gently. He told her how much Daddy loved her, and how happy he was, and how beautiful she was… and then, he started singing. I don't know that I'd never heard him sing to her before, but it was usually half-humming, under his breath, and you were never sure what the song was or which words went along with it. …This was clear, soft, and sweet, and it was clearly a lullaby the man knew well. I let my eyes close as I listened to him, and found myself sad when Ayla had clearly fallen asleep, because he had stopped.

A moment later, he was curling up in bed with me, tugging me close. For a minute we just basked in the glow of what had just happened, Gil's happiness a tangible brightness in the room, and then he laid a kiss to my temple and cleared his throat. "…I've been thinking."

I smirked. "…Always dangerous."

He nudged me playfully. "No, I mean… Have you given any thought to… where we're going after this?"

I frowned. "…I thought we decided on the Opéra de Paris Garnier?" Of course, I absolutely butchered the pronunciation.

He snuffed a laugh into my hair. "No, honey, not… not after Ayla's nap. I mean… it's our last night in Paris. We'll fly back to Vegas but… then what?"

I smirked. "Then we tackle your guest bedroom. I was convinced your pets were going to eat Ayla alive…"

He laughed again, shaking his head. "I would never put Ayla in danger… but again, you're missing my real question. …Do you want to stay in Vegas long-term?"

I frowned. "…Well, we sold the house in Boston. I mean, it only makes sense to—"

His fingers fell over my lips. "I'm not asking what makes sense. …What do you want, honey?"

I blinked a few times. "I… don't know. I… want… to do something meaningful." At his raised eyebrow I hurried to explain. "When I was teaching in Boston, it was… a means to an end. I wanted to feel useful and have a job so I could save up money, just in case… and after you… after we…stopped talking… I had been trying to save money to take Ayla and run away from him. …But it's not since I've been a CSI that I've really felt like I was excited to go to work or that… that what I was doing directly helped make the world a better place. …I want that feeling again."

He smiled and kissed me. "When we get to Vegas, we'll start looking. …Can I… can I ask what you'd planned when you were going to… run away? When we… when I wasn't…" He trails off uncertainly, and I kiss him deeply.

"It's in the past." I tell him, snuggling closer. "I really… really wasn't sure, exactly, what I would do. I think my most realistic idea was flying to Europe and losing myself here. It's so easy to travel between countries, and I just thought…" I sighed, and then shook my head. "But really, I spent most of my time dreaming of ways I would find you again… coming to Vegas… or, going to the research center or working in Costa Rica and… you coming upon me one day, out of the blue, in the middle of a bug hunt…"

He squeezed me tighter to him and sighed softly. "…I dreamed a hundred different ways in which we would find each other again… I just never let myself believe they could be real…"

I sighed softly too. "…They were so nice. The tropical ones. Warm and sun-kissed and dreamy…"

"…So let's do it."

I turned to him in surprise and the giddy look on his face sent a flutter through me as well. …This impulsiveness, I knew, was a trait that hadn't really existed in the man until he met me—and even then, it only emerged in rare instances. I smiled uncertainly. "…How… What do you…What?"

He grinned. "There's lots of research programs in the rainforest… heck, there are lots just taking place at the research center in Puerto Ayora. …Let's find one."

I blinked several times. "Just… like that?"

He grinned. "Sara, on our own, most projects would jump at a chance to get either of us working with them… Look at our credentials. Look at _yours_, honey. …Together, I have no doubt that we'll find one that interests us that has room or is willing to make room for us. …Let's take Ayla somewhere where she can see things she won't see anywhere else in the world. …Let's start over, somewhere _warm and sun-kissed and dreamy_…"

I shivered at the thought, but I felt so… excited. Could we really do this? …Just like that? "…Okay." I said, and he kissed me again.


	103. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: The end. :) I just wanted to take a minute to thank my wonderful readers and reviewers. You have made writing this story so very special for me, and I have enjoyed each and every comment. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

And now... enjoy!

* * *

Epilogue:

Xylocopa Darwini.

The Galapagos Carpenter Bee—the only true bee in the islands.

I watched it buzz hopefully around the picnic basket near my feet and then fly away before turning my gaze back to my two lovely ladies, both spectacularly dark—dark hair, dark eyes, skin darkened by days in the sun.

Ayla was now a lean and lanky five year old, clearly possessing her mother's bone structure, but the roundness of her cheeks still persisted, whether as a trait she would possess her entire life or the last lingering evidence of her baby fat, we weren't really certain. Still, it made her smile—reminiscent of Jace's, save the gap in her teeth—all the sweeter. She was presently barefoot, toes to knees covered in a light layer of sand, in a shiny blue swimming suit. She had picked it out, and though I'd wanted to talk her into a one piece, they didn't have any that covered her stomach that were this particular color.

"But this is just like the Morpho Menelaus!" She'd protested, referencing her favorite butterfly, the Blue Morpho. …What self-respecting entomologist denies his five year old anything when it's asked in reference to an insect, complete with the proper scientific term?

She was bent over in the sand, working diligently, her hair up in a ponytail and wet from the ocean. It had been an amazing day at the beach—we'd spotted some Marine Iguanas early and Ayla had spent the morning naming them after famous scientists—Einstein, Schrodinger, Keppler, Newton… the list goes on. I had been a little concerned, and turned to Sara at that point, asking if we were raising her to be kind of weird…

She had shrugged and laughed, saying that she doubted the two of us could raise her to be a "normal" child anyway.

Right now, the object of my affections—my wife of four years—was laying beside me, being buried in the sand by our industrious little prodigy. The only thing I could see of her at this point was her hair, face, and the large belly that Ayla was slowly pouring sand over, trying to cover. I chuckled at the image she made and bent to kiss her softly. "Still doin' okay?"

She gives me a sideways grin and nods. "You sound awfully concerned for the man who suggested this idea in the first place…"

"Mo-om!" Ayla whines, and I frown in confusion, but Sara just chuckles.

"Honey, I can't help it if she's kicking the sand off… she can probably feel your hands. She wants to play with you."

Ayla aims a glare at the beach-ball sized protrusion, reminding me forcibly of her mother who did that very same thing this morning, when she was attempting to put on her flip flops without sitting down to do so. I grin between the two and sigh, looking at my watch. "It's probably about time to clean up and get ready to head home anyway…"

"Can we stop and see George on the way? Please!" Ayla chimes in, and I grin, exchanging an indulgent look with Sara.

"Sure—dig Mommy out while I pack up our stuff, okay?"

"Okay!" She giggles, carefully digging Sara out of her sand prison while I fold three beach towels, pile our water bottles and our books—Sara had a romance novel, I had a book of sonnets, and Ayla had brought her first chapter book, which Sara had bought for her the previous day. By the time I'm done, Sara is rolling onto her side so that she can struggle to her feet, and I help her stand. Together, the three of us carry our shoes down and leave them at the edge of the water, submerging ourselves in the warm sea to get the sand off and then stepping into our shoes before trekking back up to our things.

We have a vehicle here, but we rarely use it, because this beach—one that is rarely frequented by tourists—is close to our home and the research center, and those are the places we mostly spend our time. So we walk, sandy and dripping, from the beach and onto the little streets lined with tourist shops until we encounter the Research Center. It's nearing closing time as we let ourselves in the back door, the air conditioning immediately assaulting our damp and sun-heated skin, chasing goose bumps up our arms.

I take the sweatshirt I'd had on when we arrived this morning and pass it to Sara, who would normally have scoffed and told me she was fine—but who took it gratefully now. I would never say this so… openly… to Sara, but… I love her being pregnant. No, I mean, I would tell her that. I tell her all the time how sexy I think it is—which is strange, I know, and she gives me strange looks when I say it. I think it's the scientist in me… she's like a living biology project that I get to explore whenever I want… the combination of two great loves. But she would think that was creepy, so I don't say that either.

However, the main thing I wouldn't tell her that I love about her being pregnant is that she allows me to take care of her. She's so independent, which I love, but it means that I don't get to stretch my inner caveman—not the one who wants to drag her off by her hair… although she indulges that one occasionally too, but the one that wants her to let me carry things and open doors and give her my coat and get things for her like she isn't equally capable. And she doesn't allow a lot of those things, but when she's pregnant, she does.

I don't know why that is, exactly, but I don't argue, I just enjoy.

Sara pulls a smaller sweatshirt out of the beach bag and passes it to Ayla, who frowns but slips it over her bony little shoulders without argument before turning her gaze back to George. She can't go inside and see him yet—the Center isn't closed and we really didn't want to explain why not every child could go inside his home. In fact, Ayla herself had spent a year working up to the privilege—not only did she do extra chores and help out at the Center doing what she could… she also had to learn whatever she could about turtles and tortoises, so that when she went into his enclosure, she would know how to be careful of the things he needs. True to form, the first time she'd stepped inside, she'd practically tiptoed, whispering back to Sara and I that he would need this plant for this and the water area for that and he liked these kinds of rocks and those kinds of flowers…

Did I mention how unbelievably proud I am of my little Ayla? It's indescribable.

Despite having to wait to see George, when Ayla catches sign of Sam, she takes off in a run and, hearing the slap! slap! slap! of her flip flops on the floor, he turns just in time to catch her up in his arms in a bear hug. "Hey little lady," the older man greets her. He's become a sort of surrogate uncle, since all of Ayla's real uncles (well, the team, and Jim…) live so far away.

"I get-ta see George!" she tells him, and he grins.

"You think so, huh? …You know, honey, you can go see him, but it's getting close to his supper time so you'll have to be quick about it, okay?"

"Okay." She tells him very solemnly, and then turns to us. "I hafta see him very quickly, because he's getting hungry!"

Sam, Sara, and I all crack grins as Ayla runs over to the window to gaze at him while the minutes gently tick down. Sam turns to us with an appraising gaze. "Day at the beach?"

Sara and I laugh and eye each other—she's got more sand than me, but I'm pink from the sun. She's been on maternity leave with Ayla for the past couple weeks, so the pair of them have had a lot of time to work on their tans. "You could say that."

A beeping filled the room and Ayla jumped and squealed! "That's means we're cloooosed!"

Sam chuckled—"Give them a second, sweetie, to lock the doors and make sure everyone is out for the night."

She's twitching she's so impatient, but she nods and listens—we're lucky to have such a good little girl, although when upset, she still tends to be pretty dramatic… I smile, thinking of the sheer number of theatrical outbursts I'd been witness to in the past five years. There had been… quite a few. Not tantrums, per se, just… everything was a production.

Within seconds the footsteps moving towards us tell us that Roberta is getting ready to leave for the night, which means the front door is locked and the building empty of tourists. A single glance at Ayla tells me that she's head it too, but she doesn't want to ask again—she's trying so hard to be good. I watch Sara give her a stern look that doesn't do anything to tear the indulgent smirk from her lips. "Okay, you can go see George, but you need to be careful, understand? Remember—we have to respect his home."

She nods solemnly and yanks the door open impatiently, hurrying inside… and then immediately slows to a walk, waving cheesily at us through the windows. Sam chuckles again and turns back to us. "Sara, you look good… about ready to pop?"

She laughs, placing a hand on the belly. "Oh, almost. …I'm just hoping I make it through Christmas. I'm not due until the 3rd but…"

"Baby's ready to come early?"

She groaned. "I dunno… I feel like she should be ready. Last week I passed the weight I was with Ayla when she was born… I thought the second ones weren't supposed to take as long."

"Hali will come when she's ready," I told her, and she gave me an endearing smile. Sam's eyebrows perked up.

"Holly? Is that what you decided on then?"

Sara smiled. "Spelled H-A-L-I. It's Greek… It's more like Hah-Lee…"

He gave her a bemused expression that clearly said he didn't see the difference, but he wasn't about to argue with her. She shook her head. "Plans for the holidays? Heading back to Canada?" The man was a native of Manitoba, and was constantly reminding us that it just wasn't Christmas without snow. He'd been playing Christmas Carols over the speakers at the Center for the last month. Despite this, he'd been wavering between making the trip home or not.

"Yep! I fly out tomorrow evening, actually. Should be home in time for Christmas Eve. When do your people get here?"

"Christmas Eve." I told him, edging over to the window to glance at our girl, who was presently petting George's head much like a dog. …Maybe we needed to get a dog. I mean, not that we didn't love that she loved George, but he was old. There was no telling how long he'd be around and… Well, there'd been some Boxer pups for sale in the paper this morning. It was something to think of…

Sara sighed. "We'd better get her home and into the tub—I'm sure George wants to eat."

Sam got to his feet and stretched, it being his job to feed the Giant Tortoise. "I'm sure he does… Hey, you kids have a Merry Christmas now. I'll bring back some snow for Ayla…"

* * *

"Puh-leeeease!"

"No."

I smirked, in the kitchen, popping a grape from Sara's fruit salad into my mouth. She and Ayla were in the living room, in the age-old tradition of negotiating the early release of presents. "But _Mo-mmy_, Carrie says _she_ gets to open all her presents early if she wants to."

I could hear the smile in Sara's voice when she responded. "…It sounds to me like Carrie is a good story teller. Besides, you don't want to open presents before your Grandma and Grandpa get here, do you? I'm sure they'd be sad they missed it."

I can't see her, but I know she's got her bottom lip sticking out in a pout, and the silence in the room tells me that Sara is wavering. I replace the fruit salad I'd been picking at into the fridge—it was technically for tomorrow, not tonight, but I'd been picking at it since she'd made it. Nobody made fruit salad like Sara. Closing the appliance, I step into the doorway, confirming my suspicions—lower lip out in a textbook quiver, and Sara's pregnancy hormones getting the better of her.

"No, Ayla." They both turn to look at me, and though Ayla looks like she very much wants to stomp her foot and storm into her bedroom, she's also smart enough to recognize a lost cause when she sees one. She sighs and plops back on the couch.

"Can we go get them _now_, then?"

I glanced at the clock—we would have been leaving in fifteen minutes anyway—and back at Sara. She shrugged indifferently, so we sent Ayla to get her shoes on and within minutes we were inside the rarely used car, headed to the ferry that would take us to Isla Baltra, where the airport was. There was also a road that crossed between the two, but the ferry took a little longer and Ayla always got excited when we took it. By the time we were getting out, we were right on time. Ayla skipped ahead of us, her curls bouncing and the red skirt she was wearing swishing around her knees with each movement. Sara smiled serenely, watching her, and I tried to imagine what she was thinking…

Ayla was happy, healthy, well-adjusted… and she looked every bit a little island girl. In her white tank and the lightweight skirt, you expected to see her building sandcastles or swimming in the ocean… never somewhere urban or too closed-in. I wondered what my mother would think of her, and what Tom would think. My mother had met her, and Sara, when we got back from our honeymoon in France, before we made the move down here. Tom had seen her then as well, although he'd made a trip down here a couple years ago when he and Susan had finally gotten their divorce.

It had taken so much for the man to leave her—no less than a criminal trial following her dismissal from San Francisco university after she'd allowed a seventeen year old freshman take his final… orally… in her office. But he had, and Sara had managed to convince him that what he needed was some time away with people who understood exactly how he was feeling and who wouldn't judge him. The tropical weather, immaculate beaches, and bouncy little three year old granddaughter were just perks. And it had seemed to help ground him, after being so severely disillusioned.

They were both going to be on the same flight from San Juan—our little airport didn't get that many flights going in and out. We'd told each of them what the other looked like, so hopefully they had managed to finagle seats next to each other and had someone to talk to on the trip—they might not know each other well, but my mother knew nothing of Susan, so there shouldn't be any awkwardness.

We waited a few minutes, Ayla wiggling impatiently the entire time, until the plane finally touched down and pulled up to the gate. The three of us stood together, Sara waddling a little humorously, a little deliciously, and we moved up closer as people began filing out. Ayla, of course, had seen pictures of both of her grandparents, but she didn't remember spending time with my mother, and only had vague memories of Tom's visit, so this would be quite an important Christmas for our little family—not least because they were both staying a few weeks. With any luck, they'd be here for Hali's birth and get to meet her.

They walked off together, and Ayla caught sight of them first, taking off for them at a run—she was not shy. As soon as they saw her, they broke into twin grins and crouched down. She caught them both in her arms, hugging them tight, and then pulled back and all but dragged them both over to us. My mother, a few inches shorter than me with shoulder-length white curls, looked particularly good for her age. Though, at the moment, she looked a little… embarrassed? Tom had aged a bit—his salt and pepper hair had become more salt than pepper, but somehow it looked good on him. And he certainly looked more put-together than the last time we'd seen him.

Hugs were exchanged all around, and both rubbed Sara's belly immediately after releasing her, gushing and swooning and baby-talking the bump. Sara blushed at this, but allowed it with a smile, and then Ayla was getting impatient, wanting to show her grandma and grandpa her bedroom and her club house in the back yard and her favorite spot on our beach and her George.

It was everything we could have hoped for—we made fresh seafood for Christmas Eve dinner and we opened our presents that night, because that was one of Sara's few unblemished childhood memories. We made hot chocolate, despite it being quite warm still, and sat out on the screened in porch talking into the night. Ayla tried valiantly to stay up with us, but eventually fell asleep against my chest after sleepily making me promise not to forget to leave Santa his cookies.

And when talk turned to the baby, and our names, Sara leaned against my free side and sighed happily. "Well, we picked Hali because… It's Greek for 'Sea,' and Ayla is Hebrew for Oak Tree. …We… our first kiss was under…against…" she blushed, glancing at my mother, who gave her a knowing, glittering smile that made Sara laugh and continue. "Against an Oak Tree. And then, we found each other again on the Ocean… We wanted something to reference that, like with Ayla."

My mother sat up straighter in her chair, preparing to speak. I recognized the action, because it was second nature to her now—sometimes people had trouble understanding her voice because her pronunciation wasn't perfect due to deafness. "Will she have a boy's name, then, for her middle name? To match Ayla's…?"

Sara smiled and glanced at me and, at my nod, sat up too. "Actually, uh… Yes, we were… we were planning to call her Hali Jace." My gaze flickered between my mother, who seemed touched, and Tom—but Sara had eyes only for her surrogate father. He drew in a slow breath, and his stoic face wrinkled, briefly, revealing the depth of his emotion before he nodded, slowly.

"I… That's…" He seemed uncertain what to say, and ended up just nodding again. "Thank you."

In a moment Sara had crossed the space to wrap her arms around him, tears sliding slowly down her cheeks, and I sighed softly. Never would I have expected that we could be so comfortable in our relationship—so confident with each other—that we could have used his name without… weirdness. In the past, we might have felt obligated, and it would have always been there, between us. Which was why it was good that we'd waited a while, before having another baby… We were better adjusted, now. And when the idea to use Jace's name had come up, it hadn't been one of the first suggestions, and it hadn't felt forced or required… but it just seemed to fit. Even in memory, Jace was no longer a threat—and I had the utmost respect for him.

After that, talk had slowed, so we moved inside, slowly turning off lights and setting out the unnecessary cookies, simply because I had promised her. My mom, a much smaller person than Tom, would be sleeping in Ayla's twin bed while Tom took the guest bedroom and Ayla slept between us. And when baby came, she would probably be on the pull out section of the couch. Either that, or we'd put up her Dora tent in the living room and she'd have a camp out on the floor.

We wished each other Merry Christmas and parted to our own rooms for the night. In bed, in the silence, I was going over my plans for the next morning—I had a quiet alarm set for early, and Sara had been sleeping deeply through most of her pregnancy, so I could only hope she would sleep through it. If she didn't, I at least had the excuse of getting up early to start the turkey.

I had called the man selling the puppies in the paper, and he'd been surprisingly willing to accommodate me—I was going to pick up the only male he had left early Christmas morning and have him in a box under the tree as a "From Santa" present for Ayla and Sara. I mean, okay, a puppy might be a lot to take on when we were about to welcome a newborn into the house, but Ayla needed a puppy, and we were going to have help…

Besides, when I imagined the looks on both of my girls' faces, I couldn't resist.

The problem was, I didn't wake up to my alarm. I woke up to Ayla shaking me. My eyes fluttered open and she pushed me gently again. "I gotta go potty, Daddy!" she whispered, frantically, and tried to climb over me. I helped her, watching her pad out of the room and down the hall, to the bathroom. Sleepily, I eyed the clock and, having at least a couple hours before I had to be up, I rolled up against Sara, snuggling against her warmth. I was just about asleep again when I felt… wet.

I sat up, at first thinking that Ayla hadn't made it to the bathroom and had wet our bed… But no, the wetness was growing, and Sara was waking, looking startled.

The next fifteen minutes were a frenzy of activity—helping Sara change, getting her suitcase, finding Ayla on her way back from the bathroom and sending her to get a blanket from the hall closet and sleep out there, because Mommy and Daddy's bed was wet, and finally heading to wake up our guests. I let my mother and Tom know that we were leaving Ayla with them, and left directions for them to find their way to the hospital in the morning as well as where the Santa gifts were hidden, and had the foresight to pour out Santa's milk and tuck his cookies into my jacket pocket before I found Sara again and ushered her out to the car.

We made it to the hospital, though just barely—I had been telling her for weeks that Hali would come when she was ready, and apparently that was true—when she was ready, and not a second later. By the time Ayla bounded into the room at 7:30, Sara was sleeping, Hali had nursed, and she was curled up in my arms. If Ayla was the spitting image of Sara, Hali was me—and selfish as it seems, I kind of hoped she would retain at least some of those traits. Her head was covered in dark blonde curls, her eyes were blue, just like Ayla's had been, and I was pretty sure she had my nose and mouth, too.

Ayla's entrance was following shortly after by her grandparents… who seemed to be walking closer together than casual acquaintances usually did. I raised an eyebrow at my mother, and she blushed, confirming my suspicions even as I slid Ayla into my lap so that I could help her hold her baby sister. …I wasn't sure what to think about it. On the one hand… I was extremely happy for Tom, who needed to find a decent woman. And I wanted my mother to be happy, though I wasn't sure if that was betraying my father or not…

But considering my already twisted relationship with Tom…

You know what? It was probably best not to give it too much thought—hell, it might not amount to anything. My mother was very reserved. …Although, I hadn't seen her look so… amorous… since I'd been a child.

I frowned, and turned my eyes instead to my girls—one sleeping, sweaty curls pressed to her head, another holding the littlest of the three with wonder in her eyes. A Christmas miracle if I ever saw one—and the happily ever after I'd been seeking out since I was nineteen. …Despite the wait, and the obstacles between here and there… I had more now that I could have ever dreamed of having, back then.

Sometimes in life, you just get lucky.


End file.
